The universe is so rarely lazy
by DarkestWaters
Summary: Mycroft has decided it was time for the Holmes family to have an heir. Lacking time, it was simplest to achieve the goal by using a surrogate. Unfortunately, the clinic makes a mistake and accidentally inseminates the patient next door, Joanne Watson. Extreme AU FemJohn/Mycroft
1. Chapter 1

**Hi! This is my first fanfiction with this profile! Be kind! And definitely review! Thank you**

Chapter One

Mycroft Holmes threw back his Brandy, barely tasting the drink and eyes the clock on his mantle. It had been years coming. His doctors had assured him that this was his last option to have a child that was genetically his, someone to carry on the Holmes legacy, his progeny. Planning and discretion had been key in his plans to provide a grandchild for his parents. His attempts at dating had usually ending in disappointment due to the stresses from his position consistently disallowing him the time to build a suitable relationship and then hearing from his doctor that his fertility was near non-existent and declining further! He was out of time and options.

Anthea had been invaluable in acquiring a discreet woman who was willing to accommodate his needs. Giselle. She was an ethereal, blonde beauty who was an accomplished artist from Paris. She agreed to his proposal and financial support. She would provide him with a child and handle the bulk of the responsibilities parenting-wise. Contact would be a minimum except for required functions and certain holidays.

It was...acceptable.

Giselle should be pregnant by this time tomorrow. Anthea was accompanying her to the clinic and had ensured the woman was fully prepared. Everything would be fine. Just fine.

xXxpagebreak!xXx

Susan Teserero stumbled over her feet. Her first day as a temporary doctor at such an esteemed women's health clinic and she had been up all night panicking, resulting in her oversleeping and barely able to fully comprehend the fact that her mentor was off sick. She was just an intern but she could do it.

"Okay, doctor, you have an annual in exam 8 and an artificial in 9."

The nurse held out the trays, both covered and handed them over.

"Yeah, sure, got it." Susan replied shakily, her nerves getting the best of her as she could barely hear what the nurse was saying.

The redhead eyed her shrewdly, possibly worried at her confidence.

"Are you sure you can do this by yourself? I can assist, Dr. Teserero."

The doctor's cheeks heated in embarrassment at the subtle accusation. "I _can_ handle it. Exam room 8 and 9. Thank you, nurse." She added pointedly and spun to enter the exam room behind her, not looking at the number to attempt confidence even though her nerves were jangling.

She entered and carried the tray over to the table, her eyes focused on the floor.

"So, you're here for the artificial insemination, miss...er..." She swallowed as she looked up, seeing that her patient was fully asleep laying on the table, her lower half covered by a thin sheet for modesty. The poor woman looked exhausted. Her long blond hair was in a loose ponytail, dark circles were purple under her eyes and Susan could see a hint of bruising on her cheek. She wondered just what it was this woman did.

A glance to her left showed a lab coat with an ID tag for a clinic but in the pocket, peeking out, she could see a DI badge. Was it possible this woman was both a doctor and an officer? That would explain doing artificial insemination. She probable had little time for a relationship. Many women getting older had chosen this way to have children to remove the difficulties of romantic entanglements.

xXXpagebreakxXX

Joanne Watson jerked awake at the gentle touch to her shoulder, cursing instantly when her bruised cheek made it's presence known at her grimace.

She blamed Sherlock. He'd damn well known she had an appointment first thing in the morning and then a shift down in the A &amp; E department at St. Bart's. There was no way he had needed to monopolize her entire night on a stake-out, then storm in after the suspected counterfeiter with Lestrade's pilfered badge. Jo had been stuck having to fight dirty when things turned violent.

The epic sulk from Sherlock following the arrest by a very irritated Dimmock had been unbelievable. Jo had flat out refused to attend the debriefing the next day citing work. _"Priorities, Joanne!" _He had snapped. Dimmock had made it very clear that Sherlock had to attend and the full amount of paperwork completed. As a result, her infuriating flatmate had ensured that she did not get any sleep as retribution for her 'abandonment'.

"Are you alright?"

Jo looked up, blinking sleep from her eyes and nodded. There was a young brunette doctor, no, an intern. Her coat was too short.

"I'm fine. Where's Dr. Simon?" She looked behind the small woman whose shoulders straightened at the question.

"She's off ill today. Don't worry though. I've done this before." The smile seemed kind and Jo relaxed a bit, allowing the doctor to help her fit her feet into the stirrups.

"Just budge up a bit. Thank you."

Jo hated these but since she'd passed thirty, her concerns about her health had increased. She stared at the bland ceiling, tensing at the touch of the speculum.

"Sorry, just relax, ma'am." A soothing touch to her knee and Jo snorted. Being called ma'am. Now she felt old.

"So, you're doing this alone? No husband?" The intern attempted to converse and Jo cringed at the feel of something scraping against her cervix. This exam was taking far longer than what she was used to but Jo relented in snapping at the intern. It was probably her first unsupervised one.

"Uh. Yeah." She shuddered at the feel of something and forced herself to stay still.

"You're very brave." Frowning, Jo started to reply when the speculum was suddenly pulled out and laid on the tray.

"Alright. All done." The brunette pulled off her gloves and helped Jo lower her legs. She went to sit up but the woman put a hand on her shoulder. Give it ten minutes then you may leave. You should have the results in two weeks."

The doctor left a very confused Joanne Watson.

xXxpagebreakxXx

Dr. Teserero left the exam room, carrying the remaining tray. Now for the annual exam. She walked next door and stepped in.

"Hello, my name is Dr. Teserero. I'm afraid that Dr. Simon is off ill today so I'll be handling your care today, Miss..."

She looked up and saw two women. One on the exam table, a very attractive blond, and a dark-haired brunette on a blackberry who looked up in surprise at the interruption.

"It's Miss Giselle Campeau for her artificial insemination." The brunette spoke curtly and Susan felt a flush of horror pass through her.

_Oh, God! _She had inseminated the wrong woman! Her hands fumbled, fingers numb as she set the tray down.

"Are you alright, doctor? Are you able to handle this?" The blackberry wielding woman asked. She wanted to answer a vehement _No! _but she refrained and nodded weakly.

She could salvage this. Her career. It was only a 25% percent chance that the other woman had gotten pregnant. Unlikely. And this was a first step in with infertile couples so if this one didn't take with Giselle (which it wouldn't as there wasn't any sperm since it had gone on the wrong patient) then usually, couples tried again. No loss. Everything was...fine.

"I'll just step outside, then."

The woman left, leaving the blond and the doctor. _Oh, shit._

xXxpagebreakxXx

Jo stumbled through getting dressed, half asleep and rushed out of the exam room, bypassing the usual post-nurse nurse instructions. She didn't have time. She needed to drop back off Lestrade's stolen badge and get to work. She wasn't looking where she was going when she collided with a solid body, knocking her back a step.

"Oh..so-" Jo swallowed her apology, quickly turning into a curious but suspicious gaze as she saw who it was she bumped into.

"Doctor Watson."

"Anthea." She replied short. "Please say you're here for a check-up."

Anthea looked at her pointedly and Jo took the hint to leave off. "Right. Whatever. As long as it has nothing to do with me, I don't care."

She smiled. "For once, doctor, this visit has _nothing_ to do with you."


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's chapter two pretty quick! This story was stuck in my head. I'm hoping to get better at making them longer. Thanks! And please review! **

Chapter Two

Mycroft stared at the test results from his surrogate, a sense of despair squeezing his chest. Negative. He had hoped for positive but knew that it was a slim chance.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he hit the intercom signaling for his PA. Anthea strode in, impeccable as ever. "I'll need a new contract for Giselle. I understand that she was adverse to in vitro fertilization due to the risks involved but can you broach the subject?"

Her brown eyes softened in sympathy and Mycroft clenched his jaw. "Of course, sir. Will that be all?"

"I'll need the files from Syria as well."

Anthea turned to leave but Mycroft stopped her, clearing his throat. "Just...don't pressure her. It'll be at least three months before a second attempt can be made."

She jerked her head in acknowledgement and left. Leaning back in his seat, the elder Holmes felt like a failure. Such a simple task but so difficult for him. It was times like this that he envied the general population. Some things came so simply for them but he had always had to fight for everything in life.

Apparently, the simple act of procreation was one more thing that he would have to work at. He envied his younger brother. So driven and fortunate. He had a career that he enjoyed and had even acquired friends and close acquaintances. Mycroft's position alienated most and only provided false politeness through a sense of fear from others. There were employees but, again, not people he could truly call friends.

Joanne Watson, though a recent addition, has taken to Sherlock's unusual lifestyle like a fish to water, going so far as to even have a cordial relationship with him. Her attempts to make peace between the brothers, while amusing, was well meaning and genuine. It was very much like their mother. It was surprising. The woman seemed to have no sense of self-preservation and even less fear when it pertained to him.

Mycroft straightened his waistcoat and checked the time. Perhaps a visit to his brother alleviate his melancholy mood was in order.

xXxpagebreakxXx

Joanne stumbled after Sherlock, her vision tunneling and graying at the edges. They had been out for over twenty-four hours and were finalizing paperwork for NSY. She idly wondered when she'd eaten last. Sherlock's odd hours and latest backlog of cases had been causing her to feel off. The stress from being constantly on alert had even been affecting her monthly cycles forcing her to feel bloated and only spotting. Even food had been off putting lately.

A sheen of cold sweat suddenly covered her forehead and she swayed on her feet. Jo forced herself to grit her teeth and stabilize.

"Alright, I think we've got everything now." Lestrade shuffled the papers in his hands and pushed them aside, eyeing the duo with a serious expression. "But next time, wait for backup. We are here for a reason."

Sherlock flicked a hand as if swatting an annoying fly. "Perhaps if we weren't forced to deal with the substandard staff in your department then Jo and I wouldn't have to take matters into our own hands."

Lestrade scowled at Sherlock's statement, causing the detective to look up.

"Not good?" He asked.

"No, Sherlock." Jo answered, looking pained.

Rolling his eyes, Sherlock swept out of the office. "You know what I mean, Geoffrey."

Greg pressed his lips into a thin line of irritation at the backwards apology and Jo let out a deep breath, wiping her forehead with a shaky hand. "Sorry."

Lestrade laughed ruefully. "It's alright. Just..." He looked up and his brown eyes narrowed as he looked at her properly. "You look like you could do with a kip and a bacon sarnie. You alright?"

The thought of a bacon sandwich caused the gorge to rise and Jo swallowed reflexively. "Fine. Just fine."

Greg frowned, starting to stand and Jo waved his concern away. "Just a bit of a flu bug. I'll be fine but keep the good cases away for a week or so to give me a chance to get over this otherwise Sherlock will end up dead because of Anderson."

"If you're sure..."

Jo gave him a pointed look that brooked no argument and left to follow her crazy friend. She was surprised to find him waiting at the entrance to the station, staring down the Detective Sergeant at the front desk. Jo decided a quick exit would be smart and sped up her walk.

"_Finally! _Molly has two bladders she's been saving for me. I want to test..."

Jo wavered at the door and Sherlock gripped her elbow, his laser-like focus suddenly on her.

"Something's wrong."

She just wanted to get home, have some soup and go to sleep. "Good deduction, that."

She tried to shake off his grip but he held on tight.

"You're sick?"

"Probably."

Sherlock huffed in annoyance but Jo could read through his bravado. The way he held onto her and slowed his paced showed that he cared.

They got to the curb, Jo, at this point, was seeing little black dots and wanted to throw up, but the sudden stop of Sherlock stole her attention.

"_Mycroft._" He hissed.

Bloody hell. This was all she needed.

"Brother mine, I see you're running your doctor rather ragged. Perhaps a ride home would be appreciated?" Mycroft was leaning against the side of the black car and twirling his ever present umbrella, looking them over but his gaze stopped upon seeing Jo.

"Or perhaps to the hospital?" His eyes narrowed on Jo, who was at this point sweating profusely and fighting the urge to not lose it on Sherlock's coat.

"I am quite capable of finding my way home, _dear brother_." He spat as if an insult.

She had to have eaten something that had been off but she couldn't remember what. The last thing had been..._damn_. Her concentration was shite.

She could hear the brothers arguing but it seemed far away, as if she was falling. Her legs felt like jelly, knees shaking as she stumbled back. Two pairs of hands grabbed at her and lowered her to the ground. She had a glance of two sets of stormy blue-grey eyes before her world went black.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Sherlock took in the sight of his friend lying on the gurney. Joanne was angry. That much was clear by the glares she shot his way and at the staff tending to her. She was still pale and her hands shook, most likely culprit being low blood sugar and dehydration which had been confirmed by the nurse's quick glucose check and the fact that Joanne had started to become more vocal in her protestations after receiving IV fluids.

The root cause, however, was unknown.

He had known Joanne for long enough to know that simply skipping a meal or two would not normally have this devastating effect. She was a doctor and had been a soldier. Irregular eating should be second nature to her. Scowling, Sherlock shifted in his seat, his foot brushing against his pompous brother's umbrella.

The doctor assigned to Watson's care walked in and Sherlock immediately disliked him. Clearly a resident by the length of his coat, trying to be a welcoming presence to his patience by his casual t-shirt underneath which showed, to Sherlock and by Mycroft's hand twitch, Mycroft belying his displeasure, inexperience and lack of confidence.

"Ah, Joanne Watson. I heard you weren't feeling well."

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the condescending tone. "Obviously."

Joanne glared at him and his jaw snapped shut with an audible click.

"Yeah. It's just a stomach bug or something. It hit me harder because I was out working. I'm fine." She added to Sherlock.

"Well, we'll see." He moved closer and patted her hand condescendingly, moving onto the questions.

They had been unceremoniously kicked out after the doctor had began asking questions about her health. Once it had gotten to the point of asking about her bowel habits and if she happened to be pregnant, _obviously not_, she had forced them to leave citing personal space. The former, if it had been an issue, would have been noted if it had been a problem as she would have been unable to keep up with him. The latter was obvious. The last person, Roger-Richard-whatever his name was, had been six months ago and hadn't even progressed beyond dating. Why did he ask such redundant questions when they had already been answered by Joanne when the nurse had asked the _same_ exact questions ten minutes prior?

It was frustrating. Joanne's insistence that it was a stomach bug weren't fitting with the data that he had seen. For one, there was no fever, a classic symptom. Then her attempt at suggesting that it was food poisoning had been ludicrous. When they had eaten it had always been the same things so if she was sick because of it then it would follow that he would be ill as well. The doctor's inane questions only served to show his lack of intelligence and experience.

He needed more data! He was a student of human behaviors and death of the body but not of the living body itself. Horrible images of cancers, unknown diseases and ailments were at the forefront of his mind. Sherlock's legs jiggled, unspent energy at his utter uselessness in this situation clawing at him.

Mycroft laid a hand on his leg, stilling his movement and Sherlock's head snapped up. "Let's take a walk."

Sherlock's eyes strayed towards the doors against his will.

"Come along, brother. There's nothing to be done until the doctor has finished with her."

Sherlock scowled and followed him outside to the ambulance bay, knowing Mycroft was right. The offered cigarette just went to show that he was frustrated and concerned as much as him.

Sherlock looked him over, noting the lines surrounding his eyes, slight weight loss and the distracted air about him. Pulling a long drag from the cigarette, Sherlock broached the silence.

"Why were you there today?"

Mycroft hesitated, very telling. "Can't I simply visit and check up on my dear brother and his companion?" He eyed Sherlock. "_Clearly_ it was needed."

Snorting, he rolled his eyes at the blatant lie. "You expect me to believe _that_?"

Mycroft's lips pressed into a thin line. "Is that so hard to believe?"

Sherlock exhaled a small cloud. "You're getting sentimental in your old age."

"Thirty-eight is hardly old." He dropped the butt and ground it under his heel. "Not up to your usual standards in insults." He smirked at him. "Although, slightly more factual than your juvenile jibes about my weight."

Shrugging, Sherlock lit another smoke from the end of his first. The weight of Mycroft's hand as it fell on his shoulder in support did help. He felt...grounded.

"She will be fine."

The reassurance was appreciated. It was familiar. Like when they were kids. Mycroft had been such a gangly teenager, always cautious, preferring to watch from the sidelines and wait before reacting but he was always right. There were times when it had been irritating but right now, he hoped Mycroft was right.

"And if she isn't?" He asked quietly.

"Then I will ensure it."

xXx pagebreak!xXx

Joanne spied her jeans and quickly pulled them on, ignoring the recommendations of the large nurse that had been assigned to her. She was bloody well done with this farce. She just wanted to get home and sit out whatever it was she had been stuck with. After a dose of antiemetics and some fluids, she felt fine. Not a hundred percent but enough to get home.

She was pulling on her jumper when there was a knock and the doctor walked in, holding her chart. He was a first year resident, clearly still nervous in treating patients but he could be good if he'd stop trying so hard.

"Dr. Watson, I think I've got the reason why you were so sick." He smiled and Joanne tugged her jacket on.

"It was a simple case of dehydration and low blood sugar because I was too busy chasing my mad flatmate all over London to eat and drink properly." She shrugged and looked around to ensure nothing had been forgotten from her impromptu check-up.

"That is a part of it but it's a little more complicated."

Jo's eyes narrowed in suspicion as she sat down and waited for the doctor to explain.

"Most of your labs were fine. No signs of infections or illness. Urinalysis showed no sign of infection, blood or proteins but it did give a positive pregnancy test." He looked excited. In the A&amp;E, it was rare to deliver, what was seen by most, as positive news.

Jo shook her head, feeling her heart speed up. "That's _not_ possible."

He looked amused at her expression. "I'm sure your husband would beg to differ."

Jo snapped straight. "We are _not_ a couple!" Her opinion of him started to sink.

The doctor started to look uncomfortable. "The test came back definitely positive."

"You had to have mixed up my sample with someone else's. I haven't..." Her cheeks heated. Why was talking about sex so embarrassing? She was an adult and a medical doctor! "Look, it's been at least six months."

Disbelief colored the man's features and Joanne's jaw clenched. "It's been a slow summer." She grit out.

He raised his hands in surrender but clearly still didn't believe her. It just wasn't possible. Her last boyfriend, Ryan, had only gotten two dates in before being overwhelmed with her lifestyle and had promptly ran. There had been no one else!

"I saw the test run myself, Dr. Watson. There's no question." He patted her hand sympathetically. She had began trembling, the reality of what Dr. Johnson was telling her slowly making it's way through the confused fog of her mind.

"You're wrong." She breathed. Her nausea was starting to make a comeback. Jo's eyes fell on the umbrella on the plastic chair in the corner. What on earth would Sherlock think? Jo snorted. He'd probably turn her into a living breathing experiment and the mystery of the immaculate conception would keep him busy at way too personal of a level. While she loved watching Sherlock working on a puzzle, it was a different beast when it was all focused on her. She did _not_ need that.

And then there was Mycroft. Nosy but well meaning. Mostly. There was no such thing as personal space and privacy with someone who pretty much ran Britain and the Secret Services.

Different scenarios ran through her mind at the false positive. Cancer was at the top of her list. An expired test strip, contamination of the sample, evaporation lines, ovarian cysts...the list continued ending in the rare possibility of a trophoblastic tumor located in her reproductive tract. False positives were rare but possible. She needed to see her doctor.

"Dr. Cook, I'd appreciate it if this test result didn't find it's way into my chart as a professional courtesy. I don't believe it's right and I'd like to see my own personal doctor. Also, if the two posh gits outside the door ask or threaten you about my private results, don't tell them about the possible pregnancy. They tend to become overbearing and I want to confirm these...results." She still didn't believe them.

The doctor frowned at her. "But in your condition it would be best-"

"_What condition?_" The door slammed open admitting both of the two men she had just warned the doctor about, Sherlock at the lead. She gave Cook a look that plainly said '_See! This is what I meant._'. The faint smell of cigarettes caused her to press her lips together in disgust. Normally, it wouldn't bother her so much but today, it was too much after such a long day.

The doctor nodded but Sherlock's and Mycroft's eyes were on her, looking her up and down, calculating, analyzing and thinking.

"The condition of dealing with your lack of common courtesy." Jo snapped. "_Most_ people knock before entering an exam room."

"Well, it's safe to say that I am not most people." Mycroft smiled dangerously at the doctor and he stepped back at the intimidating presence. "What have you discovered as to the cause of Dr. Watson's fainting spell?"

"I did _not faint_! I fell and two paranoid blokes thought it was a life or death emergency." Jo grabbed the umbrella in the guest chair and thrust it into Mycroft's hands.

His eyes softened as he turned to her. "We were simply concerned for your health."

"Well, I'm afraid I can't discuss a patient's personal information unless you're a family member or a spouse."

Jo slapped a hand over her face in mortification. He could have said anything but that. There's no way they were going to let it go now.


	4. Chapter 4

"You deserved it." Jo hissed sympathetically as she gently probed Sherlock's cheek for fractures. Satisfied that it was just bruised along with his ego, Jo collected the ice pack that had been prepared. She pressed it to the right side of Sherlock's face, undeterred as he tried to move away.

She had woken in the middle of the night to a scratching and poking in the crook of her elbow, a dark shadow on her left and Joanne had defended herself.

"You're lucky it was just my fist. Serves you right. Coming into my room like a bloody great vampire, trying to take my blood." She collected the first aid kit and quickly put it away before taking a seat opposite her flatmate. Flexing her bruised fingers and knuckles, Jo placed them into the bowl of ice water and sighed in relief.

"Just what were you thinking?" She fixed Sherlock with a piercing gaze.

Sherlock huffed indignantly. "I told you it was for an experiment. I wanted to see the differences between male and female blood when-"

"Oh, pull the other one. You and I both know you could have gotten what you needed from Molly any time." Jo snorted and laughed at the pout half-hidden under the ice pack. He really did look pathetic.

"You know you have a tell that lets me know when you're lying." She pointed in a circular motion.

"I do not!" Sherlock protested.

"Your ears go red." She said smugly.

"They do not." Sherlock's hand slipped on the ice and he glared at the smirking blonde.

"Yes, they do."

"Don't!" As if on cue, the tips turned a vibrant red. She wished she had a camera or a mirror to prove her point.

"Of course, they don't." She replied in a sotto voice that only made Sherlock glare, then grimace as it irritates the bruised flesh.

Jo's face softened and she reached a hand across the table to lay on his, squeezing it to show she understood. "I know you're worried in your own way but I told you, I'm fine." She reached up and fixed the ice pack back into position. "Just give me some privacy to figure this out."

"Alright, Joanne." Sherlock's ears flushed and she rolled her eyes, taking her hand out of the ice water and drying it carefully.

Jo stood and went to the kettle, pulling down mugs and tea bags for a morning cuppa. After filling it and putting it on the hob to boil, she went to the refrigerator. Jo had to fight the nausea at the sight of it's contents. Swallowing forcefully, she shut the door and closed her eyes in frustration. "You owe me a new carton of milk. I don't think it's supposed to be purple."

She spun on her heel and went upstairs, tea forgotten, and got ready for the day.

She was pulling on her jacket, ready to leave, when a firm knock sounded at their door. Jo opened it and was surprised to see a middle-aged man holding a black doctor's bag at their door. He looked nervous. Mycroft. Nosy git probably saw her punch Sherlock from some hidden camera. She made a mental note to go through her room again.

"He's through there." She thrust a thumb behind her.

The man jumped to attention at being addressed. "Oh, I'm not here for-"

Understanding dawned and Jo slapped a hand across her face, running it down. "Oh, for the love of-" Growling, Jo shoved past the stunned man and left for the tube station. There was a prickling sensation on the back of her neck that warned her she was being watched but she just kept her head down and swiped her Oyster card, moving through the crowd and onto the train.

She shot off a text to her friend and doctor who replied quickly saying that she could see her.

It wasn't long before Jo found herself in a paper gown in front of her friend, Dr Ednea Simon with a visibly upset intern behind her. Fortunately, the clinic had only just opened so she was the only patient at the moment and was able to explain the whole thing.

"And that's why I'm here. I never bothered to ask for the results of my exam because I assumed no news is good news."

Simon frowned, her large glasses making her look more like a puffed up, angry owl than anything. "Well, my exam is concurrent with the doctor at Saint Elizabeth's but I don't understand how it's possible. The size of what I felt would indicate that you're about six weeks, give or take a week. I'd need to do an ultrasound to be sure but I know you're very careful about this sort of thing."

Jo curled in on herself. "I also ran some tests to be sure that nothing was missed. Checking for STI's and the sort." Her expression softened and she put a hand on her shoulder. "It looks like it happened about a month ago. Was there a chance that-"

"No. I remember everything. I'm sure of it." She shook her head and glared at the ground.

"Perhaps we should contact the police to be sure. We could perform a termination and get DNA from the embryo to determine-" Jo shook her head at Dr. Simon. She needed a minute.

"Um. Excuse me. Dr. Simon?" Teserero moved forward, positively shaking. "I need to have a word?"

She sighed, irritated at the interruption to her caring for her patient. "Can it wait?"

The intern's eyes flicked between patient and mentor. "No, Doctor. It's important."

Simon sighed and turned back to Watson, giving an apologetic smile. "I'll be right back."

Jo watched as the two left and clambered down, quickly pulling on her clothes. She felt utterly violated. How had this even happened? Harry would piss herself laughing and go spare at the same time. And Sherlock? What would she say to him? The implications of how this occurred made her blood run cold and want to hide away in shame. She worked with NSY. She didn't want them to know she had possibly been raped! It had been so hard to win the respect of her peers and if this got out they would look at her differently.

She was pulling on her boot when she heard a shout outside her door. The sound was too muffled to make out what was going on but Dr. Simon was clearly very angry. In all her years of knowing the woman, Joanne had never seen her lose her cool. She was about to try and listen at the door when it opened abruptly, a red-faced Ednea storming through alone.

"Everything alright?" Jo hedged.

Simon took a calming breath. "I now know what happened and I cannot apologize enough."

"What are you talking about Ednea?" Jo asked, suspicious.

Simon indicated the chairs on the side and they both sat down. "It appears that Dr. Teserero made a serious mistake. When you came in for your check-up and I was off sick, she mixed up your procedure with another patient's."

"Ye-es..." She prompted, wanting the whole story.

"Your room was next to another woman's who was in for artificial insemination. As a result, you received the sample and the other patient did not. Dr. Teserero realized the mistake after but neglected to inform anyone of her mistake."

Joanne noticed how the words were carefully selected. How things were no longer Ednea and Susan as colleagues but by titles. The words changed to sound less threatening but she knew what she meant.

"So...you're telling me that I am pregnant by some stranger's sperm which was supposed to go into some other woman." Jo's hands curled into fists and she could feel her face getting hot. "And nobody knew or figured it out because she was too scared to admit she buggered up!"

"I am so sorry, Jo-Jo."

Jo had to force her hands to unclench. She glared at the floor while Ednea rubbed soothing circles on her back in an effort to calm her.

"What about the other woman? Does she know? She must have been devastated when she got a negative response." Watson had seen patients that had been trying for a baby and each failure had broken them a little more. She felt a confusing mix of guilt and anger. Guilt that she had what was supposed to have been another woman's child inside her and anger at Susan Teserero for doing this to her. Not just her but another woman!

Ednea sighed. "The other patient was a type of surrogate so she wasn't too upset at failing to become pregnant. The hopeful father was only contactable through his assistant. He preferred his privacy and distance but he's being contacted now as to the latest development. Dr. Teserero will be meeting with him as soon as he can come down."

Ednea stood up and went to the locking cabinet, pulling down two bottles. Jo recognized them easily. She watched as Ednea went to the computer and printed out the labels with instructions, knowing what was coming next.

"I cannot ever apologize enough. Since you're still early enough, you can choose to terminate without complications. This bottle has the mifepristone pill that you can take now." She indicated the one on the left then jiggled the one on the right. "This one has misoprostol that is taken twenty-four to seventy-two hours after the first dose. They're about 95% effective."

Joanne took the bottles while the rest of Dr. Simon's words washed over her in a haze. Instructions on aftercare, what to expect, follow-up appointments, and everything else just became a dull buzz. She had prescribed these before and had never thought twice about it but seeing those bottles in her hands, knowing they were for her, it made it different.

"Jo? Are you alright?" Ednea's gentle touch startled her and she jumped.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." She said numb.

"Do you need some time?"

"Yeah."

Ednea nodded and moved to the door. "Take as long as you need. I'll be in my office if you need anything."

-teeny page break -

A young homeless woman skittered away from the door as she heard the handle rattle. She had heard everything. She rounded the corner as the older doctor stepped out of Dr. Watson's room. Shezza was lucky that this particular clinic offered healthcare for NHS patients and was willing to overlook those less savory on certain days and times.

Most of the time they only saw those on private health cards but today was different. She had been able to follow Watson and found out enough to let Shezza know what was wrong with his doctor and who was responsible. She'd even been able to hear the name of the other patients involved when the older lady and the younger one had been fighting in the hall. Shezza was gonna pay her good for this. She quickly shot off her texts and left unseen.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Mycroft Holmes didn't suffer fools gladly, nor did he have a lot of spare time to deal with them. A Dr. Teserero from the London Women's Clinic had called his office and asked for him to come in immediately. Anthea had attempted to dissuade the doctor from her insistence on meeting and just gain the information via phone but the moment the word mistake was uttered, Anthea halted the conversation and upped it's importance.

And so Mycroft found himself in the clinic, waiting amongst a veritable hoard of expectant mothers with a receptionist that looked panicked at their schedule being behind. Anthea had provided him with files on Susan Teserero and he was impressed by her scholarly attributes but not so much with her lifestyle. It showed a proclivity towards dishonesty with the multiple affairs she had engaged in during her younger years but it seemed she was attempting to start fresh now that she had fully graduated school.

Her computer had been simple to remotely access and her emails were especially intriguing. It had given him an heads up, so to speak, as to the type of person he was going to be dealing with.

"Mr. Holmes?"

Mycroft swiftly closed his documents and saved them in his phone, standing to greet Dr. Simon. The woman was a veritable expert in her field and had been in practice for thirty years. Joan Watson had recommended her to multiple patients, even going so far as to being her patient and Mycroft trusted her judgement. He was suspicious as to why a certain intern was involved though.

"Dr. Simon." He shook the woman's hand and allowed her to guide him through the doors towards her office. They were about halfway there when Mycroft spotted a familiar figure, Joanne Watson. She was leaving an exam room, head down and placing two prescription bottles in her jacket pocket. He could see by the wrinkles in her clothing that she had removed them at one point, bunching them into a pile. Most likely by being examined. Her eyes were slightly puffy from crying and her shoulders were hunched and tense.

It was easy to deduce that she had an answer about her recent illness but that it was a serious diagnosis. Mycroft pressed his lips together into a thin line. This did not bode well. At least he was in the correct area to gain the information needed.

Joanne rushed by, eyes on the floor and focused, not even noticing the people she passed on her way out. Mycroft pushed his current concerns for Miss Watson aside, focusing on the moment. One task at a time.

Dr. Simon led him into a small but tastefully decorated office which was already occupied by a very nervous young brunette. She was pale and shaking slightly and Mycroft had to school his features into a neutral expression. It was quite an unusual situation to not be able to know exactly what was happening. He could practically smell the intern's fear.

Ednea Simon moved to sit behind her desk while the young Teserero moved to stand behind her, as if she was a shield to protect her from Mycroft's ire. If the cause was sufficient then nobody could protect Miss Teserero from him.

"Doctor Simon, I do have a rather busy schedule and I wonder-" He paused for effect, eyeing the intern and noticed the young woman started to fidget. "-why is it that am I here?" His hands rested on crossed legs and he narrowed his eyes at the two women when they took too long to respond.

"Mr. Holmes, firstly, I would like to offer our sincerest apologies from myself and everyone at our establishment." Ednea started.

"And what exactly are you apologizing for?" He preferred specifics.

Dr. Simon looked back at her intern who shook her head, terrified. Simon sighed and turned back to Holmes, expression grim. "It appears that Dr. Teserero, on the day that Miss Campeau came in for her insemination of your sample, made a rather severe mistake. I was not in clinic because I was ill and, as a result, Dr. Teserero was unsupervised and she mixed up two patient's procedures. One was Miss Campeau's and the other was the patient next door."

Mycroft closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Continue."

"The other patient mistakenly received the sample."

Mycroft glared, his anger building like a freight train as the picture unfolded. This was why Giselle failed to become pregnant. Because of a silly girl playing doctor. "And how is it that I am just finding out about this mistake?" He growled.

Simon looked distinctly uncomfortable, her hands trembled and she quickly placed them out of sight to appear more stable but the slight wobble in her voice betrayed her. "I am just finding out about this as well, Mr. Holmes. It came to light when the patient that received the sample came in today." She swallowed nervously. "Pregnant."

A moment of elation at the thought of a positive test but reality caused it to crash down and burn. He did not even know the identity of the woman, let alone her situation. It shouldn't take long to find out but the effort of convincing another woman could be troublesome and potentially ineffective not to mention the risks involved with having her life intertwined with his. This was why Giselle had been carefully selected and vetted and not some random stranger chosen.

"And just who is pregnant with my child?" The easiest way to get answers sometimes was by simply asking. "After all, I believe I have a right to know as it was your clinic's mistake."

Simon looked apologetic. "That information is confidential and I am afraid that she will most likely be terminating the unwanted pregnancy. I am so sorry."

Unwanted? It may have been unwanted by her but did she realize just how much he wanted it? There was a saying, you don't realize how badly you wanted something until it is taken away and now? Now that he knew there was a child out there that was a part of him, it was like he had been pulled in two at the possibility of it being destroyed before he even had a chance. Was it that she was married? Too young? His phone started to vibrate in his pocket with a text and Mycroft clenched his hand into a fist at the interruption but business came first.

He pulled out the device and saw a message from his brother telling him to meet...or rather demanding it. Mycroft despised texting. He stuffed the phone back in his pocket and stood, furious at the incompetent staff. "Apologies are mere words that will not rectify the grave mistake committed by the intern for which you are responsible for. It is actions from you that I would prefer. Does the woman know who the father is?"

"No, sir. Your confidentiality is protected as much as hers."

"Does she know of the circumstances? That this child is wanted?"

The intern moved forward, gaining confidence in the face of Mycroft losing his patience. "Sir, I am so sorry. Please understand that it was my fault and -"

He pointed a finger at the young woman. "You have one thing right. It is your fault. I would suggest you finish your training elsewhere." He sneered in disgust. "Clearly, you lack sufficient skills to handle even the simplest of tasks."

He spun on his heel and left, umbrella clenched tightly in his fist. Once he was back in his car he quickly called Anthea, appraising her of the situation with a strongly worded suggestion of having Susan Teserero transferred to the WHO vaccination and medical program in some distant country, far from London. He would not tolerate fools.

Anthea also set up the tasks of identifying who the recipient was, as well as determining what Dr. Watson was doing at the clinic. After all, family was important and he had assured his brother that he would care for Joanne. She had become a part of the Holmes family whether she acknowledged it or not. Thankfully, this would not be too arduous a task. The NHS had recently taken to fully digitalizing almost everything. It was just a matter of time.

The car pulled up to 221B and Mycroft tapped the knocker, straightening it as a very flustered Mrs. Hudson opened the door. What was wrong with everyone today?

"Oh! Thank goodness you're here. He's been in a right strop and Joanne isn't here to calm him down! I don't think my poor walls can take it if he keeps going the way that he is." Her hands fluttered at the hem of her blouse and Mycroft gave her a small smile to let her know he would handle the situation.

A resounding crash came from upstairs and Mrs. Hudson flinched. "Oh my, that is coming out of his rent!" She muttered and went into 221A, leaving the elder Holmes to deal with him.

Sherlock was pacing, his face a furious scowl despite the purpling bruise on his cheek. He whirled around and upon seeing his brother, his face darkened further, an accusing finger pointing. "You! You hypocrite! You dare to ridicule me when I show sentiment and affection and you are choosing to...to...breed!"

Mycroft moved back as if his words had physically assaulted him. "I don't see how my fulfilling my filial obligation is any of your business." He snapped back.

"It is when it is my friend who is being forced to carry your spawn!"

Sherlock's words caused him to stop, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly as his brother continued his tirade.

"I suppose it was too much to hope that you could have left her alone and found someone else. One of your minions perhaps? One of my informants discovered the truth moments ago, citing that it was a mistake by a junior doctor and I suppose it just happened to be sheer coincidence that Watson was the recipient? And it just so happened that you were present when she fell ill yesterday? That a doctor was sent to check on her? That you are showing such a keen interest in her health?" He sneered. "The universe is rarely so lazy as to have such things as coincidences."

Joanne Watson? She was the recipient? She was carrying his child? While Sherlock was correct that coincidences didn't usually happen, it didn't mean that they never did. He tried to imagine Joanne Watson pregnant with their child but flashes of her running into danger alongside his brother in their adrenalin rushed career choice made him feel sick. The flat where they lived was basically a Petri dish of dangerous bacterial substances that weren't safe for a pregnant woman or a baby. Her long hours that she worked at the clinic and with Sherlock weren't healthy either.

These issues could all be rectified quickly but first he needed to correct Sherlock's misinterpretation of the facts. "Let me make one thing clear, little brother, I would never have chosen Joanne Watson to be the mother of my child."

He didn't get the chance to finish his statement. A dull clunk came from behind him and both men turned their focus to the doorway. Watson had dropped her jacket on the floor, her face pale and mouth gaping at the two of them.

Sherlock recovered first, stepping forward to greet her but she stepped back to stay out of reach. "I knew you couldn't just mind your own damn business, Sherlock!" She spat.

Mycroft tried to get close to her, only to be rebuffed just as swiftly. "No. Just. No. Not right now." She shook her head, backing away. Neither of them had a chance to say a word before she fled.

Both flinched at the door slamming and Mrs. Hudson's gasp of shock. Normally, Jo was the calming influence for the both of them.

Mycroft turned to glare at his brother. "You just had to go and try to show off and one-up me on knowledge! For once in your life, brother, shut up and listen! I had nothing to do with this. Sometimes there are such things as coincidence." His hands curled into fists and he could feel his face heat in anger and frustration. "I am getting older and my chances at having a child of my own are dwindling. It truly was the ineptitude of a so-called doctor that caused this."

He forced himself to calm down, breathing heavily. "And while I would never have chosen Dr. Watson because of her close association with danger, I cannot deny that she would make an excellent mother given her proclivity for being able to handle immature Holmes men like yourself."

"While you may feel that way, who's to say she intends to keep it?" Sherlock lifted the dropped jacket and picked up the two small prescription bottles that had fallen out of her pocket, holding them out for him to see.

Mycroft remembered Dr. Simon telling her that the recipient was intending to terminate. Perhaps it was a good sign that Watson had yet to administer the fatal medication. He could work with indecision. "She hasn't yet."

Mycroft took the bottles and pocketed them, despite Sherlock's clear disapproval. "This is not an ideal situation for anyone. This may be my only chance and I am determined to give it a try." He took a deep breath, eyes softening when he looked at his brother. Mycroft remembered Sherlock as a curly-haired mischievous child and how much joy he had brought into their home when he was small.

Their mum had often lamented the fact that she had not had more children and now, that there weren't grandchildren, she had taken to mentioning it frequently during her visits. His arrangement with Giselle had been cold but functional, the end result being the goal.

There was a major problem though. Whereas most people would simply fold under pressure from him or at the promise of a monetary reward, Watson was impressively stubborn. However, she had very strong morals. The thought of baring his secrets to convince Joanne to continue the pregnancy was anathema to him but if it would work, it would be worth it.

Joanne tended to be discreet and very private. It was unlikely she would advertise what truly happened and the reasons behind it.

"Allow me to warn you, Mycroft. You have seen what I am willing to do to protect the ones that I care about." Oh...he remembered the CIA agents that had hurt Mrs. Hudson.

"I will not have you threatening, intimidating or laying a single finger on Watson. You will not coerce her or manipulate her." He threatened.

Mycroft looked at Sherlock's cheek to make a point. "I am relatively certain the Miss Watson can handle herself."

Sherlock puffed out his chest. "It's not me she's angry with."

Rolling his eyes, Mycroft crossed his arms. "I rather think it's both of us."

xXx page break xXx

Watson sipped on her cup of tea, watching the water fountain at Hyde Park. Sometimes, she just wanted to strangle Sherlock. Well...Mycroft, too but his murder was a more rare thought.

Both Sherlock's and Mycroft's words were swirling in her head, building speed like a hurricane and it only made it harder to think. She was carrying Mycroft's child? She didn't even realize he had been trying for a baby. Did it make it better or worse that it was someone she knew? Did it make it better or worse that it was Mycroft Holmes? Joan laughed a bit at the morbid thought.

She watched as a lady pushed her pram, hurrying against the cold and trying to soothe a fussy baby. Could she do that? Should she? She was getting older but she should have had more of a say...or a say at all in this. Her life was just getting started again and a baby was a lot of work.

Joanne frowned. And then there was the issue of Mycroft. He was nosy enough as it was without adding being tied to him in a familial way more than her partnership with his brother. And even though she knew that the woman that was supposed to have been the recipient hadn't been a girlfriend or wife, it had to have still affected her. Maybe she had wanted this. Maybe Mycroft could simply try again.

Shivering, Jo brought her tea closer, trying to inhale it's warmth. Even if she terminated, things would be different now that they knew. Things would be different with either decision. Sometimes, Joanne wished she didn't know those two Holmeses. Smiling, she realized her life would be pretty dull without them.

It was early afternoon but it was still chilly and the tea left a lot to be desired in keeping her warm. She was too stubborn to head home after her display. She was rethinking her decision when she felt the air shift around her and a large expensive coat was draped across her shoulders.

"Not right now means I needed time to think." She murmured but immediately felt better and much warmer. The smell of expensive cologne, books and leather surrounded her and the tension left her.

"I know. You can still think while avoiding hypothermia."

Jo smiled and shook her head.

The bench creaked to her left and Mycroft sat next to her, not saying anything, just sitting and watching. Five minutes pass before the silence is broken.

Jo turned to her left. "It was an accident, right?"

The October wind swirled and caught her hair forcing her to tuck it into her borrowed coat and close it tighter around herself.

"Most definitely but not the worst I have ever had happen." He turned to face her and Joanne could see desperation in his eyes. "I had made arrangements but this changed the way things were supposed to have gone. I would never have asked this of you because you have your own life to live. I understand that you never planned for this." A deep breath. "This was supposed to be an impossibility, a vain hope to have a child of my own and it may not be successful another time."

It felt like her heart was being squeezed hearing Mycroft talk. She had had many other patients go through the varying stages of infertility and despair at the small success rates.

"So, you've been trying for a while?"

"For several years. First I tried the traditional way to start a family. Dating but it never quite amounted to much. As you know, Sherlock and I are quite difficult to get along with on our best days." He smiled and Jo shrugged.

"You're both not that bad. Just...different."

"Well, you're in the minority." He leaned over and turned the collar on her coat up even though she rolled her eyes.

"I even proposed once." He sighed and shifted in his seat. "Suzanne. American. You can imagine Sherlock's thrill at the accent."

She could. He would have been mortified.

"My work started keeping me away more and then Sherlock started having problems and when Suzanne wanted to start to try and have a family we found out that it would be nearly impossible because of me. Suzanne felt isolated. Neglected and alone. She left after a year and called off the wedding."

Joanne frowned. She'd never really thought of Mycroft having a life outside of what he did.

"It was several years before I underwent testing again and the doctors determined that if I didn't attempt again soon that it would be unlikely that I would ever have a child that was biologically mine. That was when I contracted a woman who was to be a surrogate and here we are." He held out his gloved hands, palms up showing that he was offering her his past.

She knew that neither Sherlock or Mycroft said anything lightly when it came to themselves and the elder Holmes was offering a lot of himself. She eyed him to determine if he was telling the truth. She knew Sherlock well enough but Mycroft was still an enigma to her.

"Why do you want a child? You never struck me as the paternal type."

Mycroft turned to watch the people milling around them. "I think it's more of a wish to continue my genetics, to be able to experience things again as if for the first time." He sighed and looked back at Jo. "It has been a very long time since something has surprised me."

Somehow she didn't think that it was just the baby that he was talking about.

He moved his hand to hold hers, the supple leather soft and warm against her cold fingers. "I would never have asked this of you if I had a choice not because of who you are but because it is a lot to ask of someone. Please understand I will support whatever decision you make but you'll have to forgive me if I am hoping for your agreement."

"Alright." He brightened, looking frighteningly hopeful (Now that was a weird expression on him!) and Joanne put a hand up. "I'll think about it. I just need you and Sherlock to back off."

Mycroft eyed her and Jo read him loud and clear. It was along the lines of 'Do you really think that is going to happen?'.

She stood and started to shrug off his coat and Mycroft stopped her. "Keep it."

"Don't be daft!" Mycroft pursed his lips and narrowed his eyed pointedly. Jo rolled her eyes but relented and buttoned up the coat even though it was way too big.

"Thank you. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Just...give me time."

She still had one other Holmes to talk to.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Joanne wandered for a bit, enjoying the solitude and people watching before she headed home, much calmer than when she had left. She'd just shut the door when Mrs. Hudson rushed out, looking her over from head to toe and clucking in disapproval at what she saw.

"You're looking a bit poorly. And wandering about when it's so cold without a proper coat? It's a good thing that that brother of Sherlock's gave you his coat."

The older woman ushered her in, pushing a hot cup of tea into her hands and a plate of homemade biscuits at her. She had little choice but to accept them.

"I saw him rushing out after you left. They had been making such a ruckus upstairs and went ever so quiet when you left." Jo could see that Mrs. Hudson was fishing for gossip and so she busied herself with drinking her tea, keeping her mouth occupied.

"I would have gone after you but with my hip not being what it used to be..." Mrs. Hudson paused expectantly and Jo quickly agreed on the issue.

"I must admit I am curious as to what made you so cross. I've never..."

A loud bang from upstairs stopped Mrs. Hudson's prying and Watson sighed, knowing that she couldn't put off speaking with her annoying but well-meaning flat mate any longer.

She quickly excused herself and went upstairs, spotting Sherlock bent over the kitchen table. On closer inspection, she could see him using a glass dropper and putting drops of hydrochloride acid on...

"Sherlock, you twat! Is that my jumper?"

He looked up, goggles covering his grey eyes. "Well, I needed a low quality fabric to test..."

She glared and he faltered slightly. "Why is it always my jumpers?" Joanne sighed, exasperated.

"Well, you weren't here to protest, so I had assumed-" He moved to another swatch of the cream colored fabric.

"Stop. I swear I just don't know what to do with you. Maybe I should just bring down all of them to make it easier? After all, I know how much you hate them." Jo asked sarcastically.

"I prefer to make the pleasure last."

"Be serious. I need to talk to you." She groaned as he pointedly flourished the dropper and added a few drops to the fabric, watching it dissolve and added a note into the small pad next to him.

Joanne ran a hand down her face and walked to the refrigerator, almost stumbling when she saw that it had been fully stocked, no hints of purple milk or body parts and, not one, but six different kinds of milk, whole, skimmed, semi-skimmed, rice milk, soy milk and almond. It was filled with an eclectic mix of foods as if it was done by a madman and, in a way, Jo supposed it had been.

She could see in the corner of her eye Sherlock pausing and watching her, his lips pursed and expression serious as he waited for her reaction to his peace offering. She couldn't help the smile that creeped onto her face. Joanne could see this was his way of apologizing. She had been asking him for months to dispose of the toes molding in the crisper and, here he goes and makes the whole fridge safe for humans...living ones.

Grabbing the bottle of juice (no surprise that he picked her favorite) and pouring herself a glass, she took off Mycroft's coat and sat down at the table. Sherlock's hand was still poised over a scrap of her former clothing and she could see he was still nervously anticipating her scolding.

"Look, I know you were concerned but I can look after myself. I have been for far longer than I've known you and I would have told you if it would have been something serious." She watched as he put the equipment down, his eyes intense and stormy grey as he brought his full focus onto her.

"The real question though is would you have told me about this, Joanne, because it is just as serious."

And wasn't that the crux of the matter? Sherlock was her best friend. He had been there during both her highs and her lows. Jo fiddled with her glass, stalling as she thought about her answer. "The truth is I just don't know. You took that option away from me." She sighed. "I think I would have. I'd like to think so but I would have wanted time and privacy to make a decision."

She could see the regret in his eyes but there was hurt too. Hurt at the realization that she might have kept him in the dark. "I will support you, Joanne Watson, in whatever decision you make. I will not judge you." He reached out and held her free hand, squeezing it to emphasize his words and it bolstered her.

And maybe that was what she had needed. The support of her friend.

"However, I reserve the right to continue to educate you in the flaws of my brother. I still maintain that he had to have been adopted." He said this so seriously that she couldn't help laughing.

Taking a sip of her juice, Jo relaxed. The moment she swallowed, her mouth watered unpleasantly, her face suddenly felt clammy and she lost her color. Sherlock quickly handed her his waste basket as she threw up.

"I hope you realize that this is your body's attempt to expel something that isn't natural. Namely, the offspring of my brother. You do know it might be ginger." Sherlock smirked as she heaved over the bin and she flipped him off.

Sherlock handed her water to rinse her mouth and took the bin, quickly dumping it and rinsing it in the bathroom while she laid her head on the table feeling drained. A glass was put in front of her and she looked at it in puzzlement.

"It's ginger ale. It's supposed to help with...this." His hands made a vague all-encompassing gesture that Jo supposed meant her and morning sickness.

"Thanks." She mumbled and grudgingly sipped at the drink. That was when it hit her. Not only had Sherlock apologized by cleaning the refrigerator but he had stocked it according to the diet for a pregnant woman. The ginger ale...another home remedy for pregnant women. Sherlock had researched. All to help her if she chose to keep the baby without voicing his opinion but, despite his words, she could feel the pressure.

"You still owe me a new jumper."

Sherlock started to protest but Jo put up a hand to forestall his argument. "I am all for furthering science but not at the cost of my wardrobe."

The consulting detective sulked. "But you weren't going to fit in it-"

She sent him a glare warning him to go no further about her size and he was wise enough to heed her warning. Sherlock's phone chimed and he lit up.

"Case! Finally!" He swept through the flat like an overgrown toddler, practically vibrating with excitement. Jo smiled, very glad for the distraction.

"Come along, Jo."

"Not a dog." Rolling her eyes and smiling, Watson grabbed her jacket and followed her mad flatmate out.

xXxpagebreakxXx

Joanne wondered just what Lestrade had for them when they pulled up to an upscale building. Exiting the cab, the hairs on the nape of Joanne's neck raised giving her the feeling of being watched. Sherlock strode ahead of her to the entrance, forgetting to pay the cabbie and leaving her behind. Jo lingered, eyes scanning her surroundings.

"Jo!"

Sherlock's shout brought her search to a stop and she shrugged off her suspicions as paranoia, paid and walked into the set of flats.

She followed Sherlock under the police tape and immediately felt like throwing up again as an horrendous smell hit her. They were in a loft-style flat, a small brunette woman hanging from an exposed beam with a chair kicked over under her.

"Oh, God! Why'd you call him in? It's a simple suicide." Anderson sneered as he stalked over to them. It wasn't the smell of a body making her gag.

Sherlock looked him up and down. "Once again, wrong but right now Watson is trying to decide."

"Decide what?"

"Whether it's your face, your stupidity or that excuse for aftershave that you're wearing is going to make her throw up. Do stop your attempts at wooing back Donovan. She's moved on." A few sniggers from the other officers only added to Anderson's anger as he turned a very interesting shade of puce.

They were both saved by his angry reply by DI Lestrade. "This is Susan Thomas. Approximate time of death is two days ago. She was found by her wife, Kelly Thomas." He nodded over towards the kitchen where a woman was sobbing into the shoulder of a young man who was staring at the scene with haunted, bloodshot eyes. "She says that Susan's been depressed for a while since she's been away for business in Paris for the past three months. She got home this morning. It looks like a simple suicide but the wife's brother, Michael, is adamant that it isn't."

Sherlock eyed the siblings. "He's right."

Lestrade rolled his eyes. "Care to share with the class?"

"The wife did it."

Lestrade gaped for a moment before composing himself. "She has an alibi. She was in-"

"France which is accessible via the tunnel within a matter of hours. All she would have to do is rent a car and drive back after. The rope is too short, her feet wouldn't reach the chair, yes she was strangled but not by rope, by hands. You can see the scratches under her chin and near the nape of the neck, bruising is inconsistent with a rope. Check under the victims fingernails for DNA. There are defensive wounds."

Lestrade moved closer. Jo watched the woman who's crying had calmed as she watched them. "There's not even a motive. Why would Kelly murder the woman she'd been happily married to for five years?"

"Because she was having an affair with her wife's brother and was leaving her. She was pregnant with his child. Notice her ring is missing, there's a rucksack by the door and-"

"Alright. Alright."

Sherlock huffed and crossed his arms. "This wasn't even a two. I know that even Anderson would have eventually figured this out."

"Well, to be honest," He glanced at Jo. "I was wanting to see how you were. When I heard what happened I tried calling but your mobile was off and Sherlock wasn't answering either. Are you alright?"

She smiled at her friend's concern. "I'm fine. Just didn't eat enough and was tired."

Jo ignored Sherlock's sharp look at her answer while Greg looked skeptical. "If you're sure..."

"She said she's fine, Geoffrey."

"Greg." He corrected.

"I'm _fine_."

"Well, if you feel up to it, on Friday a few of us were going out. Pub quiz at the Fox and Crown."

"She's busy."

"I'd love to." They both spoke at the same time and Greg looked uncomfortable.

"I'll-er- text you the details." He said, looking from one to the other.

Grey eyes narrowed at Jo while she finished with Lestrade. As they were leaving she could hear Mrs. Thomas screaming obscenities, most likely being placed in cuffs.

The feeling of being watched came back as soon as they got to the pavement. Jo's eyes darted around and settled on a bloke reading the paper across the way.

"I think we're being watched." She whispered and the consulting detective followed her eyeline, immediately growling.

"Mycroft."

"What?" She'd always known he was protective of his brother but she'd never seen his attempts this obviously before. "Why is he having you followed? You didn't do anything, did you?" She asked suspiciously.

He threw out an arm for a cab. "It's not me he's watching. It's you."

"What?"

A black cab pulled up and they piled in. Jo's heart sped up in anxiety at the thought of being watched. "Why would he-"

"You're carrying his child. Of course he's going to increase security. As long as they aren't complete idiots and don't get in the way when we're working then I guess I can tolerate their presence."

"How considerate of you but I still don't see-hold on. You said increase security. Do you mean to tell me that he's been having us watched before this?"

Sherlock wasn't looking at her, focusing on his phone and texting. "Watching, yes. Protecting, not as such unless necessary. They kept their distance but I assume, since they've gotten more obvious, that their orders have changed."

Jo eyed the man with the paper. "MI-6, if you're wondering." Sherlock whispered, causing her to jump and remember that they were supposed to be entering the cab.

"I wasn't."

Sherlock sighed and gave the address for home. "While I disagree with Mycroft on many counts, this is one instance where I think he is acting appropriately."

The blond frowned incredulously and turned to face her friend and Sherlock moved closer to talk lowly, preventing the driver from hearing him, his breath warm against her neck. "You remember when I told you that he was the most dangerous man you've ever met? Imagine his enemies. Imagine if they ever found out that you were carrying something precious to him. That you might be important to him?"

It was as if a bucket of ice water had been dropped on her and she shivered at the implication despite the warmth of the cab. The rest of the ride was silent, the air heavy with the weight of what Sherlock told her. It was yet another factor in making her decision and the clock was ticking, hanging over her like Damocles sword, swinging ever closer.

They got back to their home, Sherlock paying the fare because he could see Jo's thoughts were elsewhere. He shuffled her up the steps and inside.

"I told you, not to frighten you, but to inform you of the risks. Mycroft likes to maintain the illusion of occupying a minor position but there are always risks."

Frowning, Watson sank into her chair and put her head into her hands. "What should I do? What would you do if you were in my position?" Her voice was muffled but Sherlock understood her and sat across from her in his own chair, steepling his fingers underneath his chin.

"I cannot give you an answer. This is a decision that you will have to make on your own, placing your own beliefs, morals and wishes ahead of others. A rare occurrence for you."

Groaning, she rubbed at her face and sat up. "Alright. Fair enough. How about if I decided to have the baby? Would you be ok with having a baby in Baker Street?" She swallowed nervously. "Would you be ok with having Mycroft's baby in Baker Street?"

"I can assure you Mrs. Hudson would be happy irregardless of the parentage. She does rather enjoy caring for people, especially small ones."

Risk and danger didn't bother her. Maybe it was because from day one of her adult life, when she heard danger, she went running towards it and not away from it. It was just how she was. She knew she would be fine if she had her friend's support.

"I suppose that since half of it's genetic make-up is from you, it might make it more tolerable." He grinned widely. "And I might be able to influence it correctly to help it be something moderately interesting. A true test of nature versus nurture."

Jo snorted. "Be serious."

Sherlock smiled, his face soft. "I would not mind a baby here in Baker Street."

Jo let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

She knew she was getting older and didn't exactly have other prospects for having a traditional family on the horizon. The thought of terminating this small life growing wasn't a pleasant one. She could already see small feet running around the flat, tiny hands reaching for her and hear giggles and laughter. Well, what was traditional anyway? Boring.

Jo smiled, eyes bright. "Okay."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Mycroft closed the folder on the latest in a string of foreign political uprisings. It had been a long week and he had yet to hear from Dr. Watson in regards to her decision. Although, he wouldn't lie. He had been keeping closer tabs on her and his brother as of late and what he had viewed seemed promising despite Sherlock successfully removing his surveillance equipment from their flat.

His last update had been of Doctor Watson leaving the clinic and heading home to Baker Street. His few clear images of her showed that she seemed extremely fatigued. In fact, during one ride on the tube, she had fallen asleep while standing upright, leaving her rather vulnerable to a pickpocket. Fortunately, his agent had managed to return the items to her person before they had been missed.

He decided a visit was in order. "If Mohammed won't come to the mountain..." He sighed and called for a car, quickly closing down all of his programs and putting away files. By the time he had finished, his sleek black sedan was waiting.

The ride was quick, most of the rush hour traffic had cleared for the day. His desire to acquiesce to Joanne's desire for space was warring with his own wishes to know and plan for their future. He was a man who did not enjoy being surprised and, Joanne Watson, was anything but predictable. He allowed himself a moment to wonder about the future. If she decided to have their child. What would he be like? Would it even be a little boy or would it be a girl? Would she have blonde hair and be adventurous like the good doctor or would he be a small, shy, auburn boy much like how he was as a child? Would he have Joanne's kind blue eyes or would she have Mycroft's knowing grey?

Would there even be a child? The possibility was gut wrenching.

The car pulled up to 221's black door and Mycroft steeled himself, slamming down a wall and pushing his hopes and emotions behind them. He picked up his umbrella and slid out the door, walking up the steps to hopefully know what his future held.

He eyed the skewed knocker and had only a moment to sigh in frustration that his brother wasn't out when the door swung open.

"Sherlock." He greeted, tapping his umbrella on the tip of his shoe.

Sherlock sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes and walking up the stairs, leaving the door open in invitation.

"She's asleep on the settee."

Mycroft's patience was thin. There was no indication from his brother as to what Joanne's decision was.

Sherlock hesitated halfway up the stairs to answer his unasked question. "It's not my place to say."

They both walked in and Mycroft saw Joanne sleeping as his brother had said. He took a moment to look at her closely. Her long blond was still in her utilitarian pony-tail but it had become skewed, tiny loose strands curled around her face. In sleep, she looked younger, the stresses of the day smoothed away. He noticed, with displeasure, that she seemed to have lost weight. Just a slight hollowing of her cheeks. Not enough for most to see but for him, it was child's play. She was still in her work clothes, tan trousers and a blue blouse, her jumper having been discarded on the back of the settee.

She had a set of keys in her left hand clutched in a loose fist on her chest while her left rested on her abdomen. He watched as she shivered and turned on her side, facing away from him.

Sherlock walked over with a red, rather worn looking blanket. A shock blanket, likely from one of their many exploits. He carefully covered her and stepped back.

Mycroft couldn't help but think of her as fragile underneath that blanket.

Sherlock's deep baritone interrupted his musings. "She has no idea how powerful her position is right now. She is literally holding the British government hostage with her decision."

Sherlock's words could not have been any closer to the truth if he tried.

"I am hardly the British government, brother. You do flatter me." Mycroft scoffed but he could see Sherlock knew better.

Sherlock waited only a moment longer but grabbed his belstaf and spun around clutching the pilfered keys. "Well, brother mine, crime has no clock so I must be off. One thing-" he was almost out the door, "-as far as Joanne is aware, it was you who had her patient Mark Sampson reassigned. He attacked two previous doctors when he stopped taking his medication and was likely to not be med compliant for long."

Mycroft had no chance to reply before Sherlock slammed the door causing Dr. Watson to startle awake. She sat up, her eyes unfocused before she patted herself down and realized the keys she had been holding were missing. "Cheat!"

Kicking off the blankets, she stomped to the door and opened it, clearly about to shout towards her retreating flat mate when she finally noticed Mycroft standing in her sitting room. "Oh."

She nervously ran her hands down her top in an attempt to smooth the wrinkled material. "Um..Mycroft." She swiped a hand over her face and took a deep breath. "Tea?"

It was rare to see her caught off guard. Her neck and cheeks pinked as she tried to straighten her hair and appear in control. She was nervous. "I'll just-um-tea." Joanne quickly left into the kitchen.

Mycroft followed to the kitchen table and took a seat, setting his umbrella on the unoccupied seat next to him. He noticed a pronounced lack of body parts. In fact, he saw a smaller second refrigerator next to their usual one. The table was practically covered in an unusual assortment of padlocks though. For them, this was practically a safe environment.

Joanne shuffled through the cupboards, seemingly grateful at the chance to perhaps stall their conversation. She set the tea to steep and Mycroft noticed the refrigerator stocked with food and clean. This was an encouraging sign. He looked around while Joanne let the tea steep and also saw a bottle of prenatal vitamins, definitely used.

She turned and handed him a mug and placed the cream and sugar on the table, sitting down opposite. "Sorry. Sherlock wrecked the tea set. I think he was growing mold to see how it manifests in bone china compared to ceramic mugs."

He gave a small smile and took a sip, surprised that she was always able to make an excellent cup of tea. "This is fine."

Joanne took a deep breath. "I'm sorry I haven't talked to you sooner. I didn't want to bother you until I had an answer."

Mycroft was sure of her answer but he needed to hear it from her. To have more proof than what he could deduce from their surroundings.

"I've decided to have the baby."

It was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, to know that things fell into place despite it not being according to plan. He let out a deep breath, letting his relief show.

"But you need to calm down on the surveillance and micromanaging. Nothing is going to happen to me and I can take care of myself. I have been doing it for most of my life, you know."

Tilting his head and raising his eyebrows, Mycroft looked at her in disbelief. "You do deal with rather unsavory characters and tend to neglect yourself in favor of caring for Sherlock. Just the other week you fainted due to overwork."

"I did not faint. I collapsed." Joanne's cheeks turned pink and her eyes flashed, the blue bright in irritation and embarrassment. "And besides, that was due to unforeseen circumstances and a one off."

"Moriarty, General Shan-" Mycroft started but Watson put up her hand. "Alright, alright. Just...keep them to where I don't see them and don't mess around with my patients. It's hard to build up a level of trust when they're suddenly swapped to another clinic without an explanation. I have a duty of care."

"As do I, Doctor Watson." He sent her a deliberate look, imploring her to understand without telling her.

Jo sighed and nodded. "I understand, Mycroft, and I promise that I am being careful." She brought her hands close to his but hesitated before making contact and pulled away, clearly unsure at how open she could be with him, if he would welcome the contact.

"Well-" She cleared her throat and straightened in her seat. Mycroft knew she was nervous around him. "I have an appointment next week. I don't know how involved you want to be so-"

"I will be there."

Joanne's eyes snapped up to his. "It's nothing exciting. You don't have to. I know you're busy-"

"If you have no objections to it, I would very much like to be there." He reached out to Joanne's hand and pulled it towards his, covering her smaller, delicate hands in his larger pair. He could feel the callouses from when she handles her weapon, the subtle strength in her fingers from years of working with her hands in the medical field. Surgeon's hands that never got a chance before it was stripped away by that fateful bullet to her shoulder. It may have stolen that career path from her but it had brought her to him and Sherlock.

"I wasn't going to have much of a chance to be involved had the original plan happened. I had assumed the end result was all that was necessary but-" he paused, thinking of the opportunity afforded him with Joanne being the person carrying his child rather than a hired surrogate. "I find this to be a much more pleasant alternative."

"Well, you're not the one who's going to have to push an eight pound baby out of you so I think it's definitely more pleasant for you." Joanne replied with a smile.

"Thank you." He released her hand and sipped at his, now tepid tea.

She smiled and smoothed her hair. "You're welcome."

They were brought out of their silence by the doorbell ringing, the sounds of feet climbing the stairs. "Yoo-hoo! Joanne?"

Mrs. Hudson tapped on the door, peeking around before walking in. She looked between the two of them, a slight frown appearing on her face. Likely concerned that there was something wrong with Sherlock.

"There's a gentleman here for you." Running her hands down her apron, Martha Hudson didn't look happy about it.

"Oh, my god! Patrick! I completely forgot." Jo stood, pulling her hair loose from it's tie and running her fingers through it. Mrs. Hudson clicked her tongue disapprovingly and opened the door wider to let in "Patrick". She shook her head as she left.

An older man walked in, mid-forties, balding but had recently had a hair transplant in a vain attempt to disguise his true age. The suit he wore was mid-level quality, off the rack. Likely, he was an accountant or low-level solicitor. He eyed the man's stance, hunched slightly, usually bent over a computer, ink stain on his tie. An accountant seemed more likely. The faded tan line on his ring finger indicated he was recently divorced, no, separated.

"Hi! You must be Patrick. Sara's told me so much about you. I just need to finish getting ready for our date. I thought it was tomorrow."

A date?! The thought of it seemed to settle in him like an unpleasant aftertaste, sour and bitter at the same time. He wasn't sure what he had expected of Joanne Watson but the thought of her dating while carrying their child was an extremely unpleasant one. He had considered her health, her safety but he had neglected considering her relationship status. He knew that she wasn't shy or a recluse but it was a harsh reminder that she was socially active despite the demands on her time placed by her work and Sherlock.

"This is my flatemate's brother, Mycroft Holmes. He was just leaving." She looked at him pointedly and Mycroft could see her tactic of trying to hide everything. "I'll see you next week." She dismissed him and ran up the stairs.

He debated contradicting her to be able to collect more information on this latest development but ultimately decided to bow out gracefully. Joanne's date smiled awkwardly at him, holding out a hand to shake. "It was nice to meet you, Mycroft."

He returned the smile, though his was a closer resemblance to a shark's. "Mr. Holmes, please. And your name?"

Patrick lowered his hand awkwardly, sensing the tension. "Patrick Goodall."

"Have a pleasant evening." He left Joanne's date standing there nervous and unsure with a strange feeling of satisfaction in his chest.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Joanne knelt, grimacing at the grimy water now soaking into the knee of her favorite pair of jeans. She and Sherlock peeked over the low garden wall and could see the exchange of money taking place. She had her mobile recording the whole thing but she could see that Sherlock was itching to take them down. He had been positive that Mr. Dunbar had paid someone to kill his mistress and here was the proof.

Sherlock started to move and Joanne grabbed a handful of his coat to keep him down. "_Don't!_" She hissed and a moment later they saw their hitman turn and a gun in his hip holster. She quickly sent off a text with the video to Greg along with the address, hoping that they would hurry.

Dunbar and the hitman were finishing up when a swarm of police cars descended. Sherlock's eyes locked with hers for a moment, his indecision clear. Joanne had only a moment before Sherlock darted out of her grip. Dunbar immediately surrendered but the hitman ran, Sherlock hot on his tail. Joanne took a step to follow but it felt like a ball and chain suddenly locked her in place. Fear. Fear of getting hurt and losing the baby.

She took an aborted step to chase behind them when she was almost overrun by several constables.

"They went that way!" Joanne pointed at the direction that the pair went, feeling guilt and shame for not following. She had never let Sherlock go before without backup. "Be careful. He has a gun!" She shouted to their backs.

She walked out, feeling like a traitor and spied Greg shoving Dunham into the police car. Sergeant Donovan spotted her and started walking her way.

"Where's your boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend, Sally." Joanne sighed.

She looked around, her curls bouncing. "Well, you two are always together in the thick of things. Why's he gone off on his own?" She looked closer. "Have you two had a falling out?"

"No. I just thought he could handle this one on his own." Joanne lied. She soon spotted Sherlock looking satisfied behind the two constables dragging their suspect. She let out the breath she had been holding in relief.

"Come off it, Watson. You never leave his side. What's he done? Put fingers in your marmalade?"

Joanne rolled her eyes and waited for Sherlock to finish with Lestrade who was shoving the second suspect into another car. She could see Lestrade's lips thin and his face frown and she knew that it was a familiar argument between the pair. Sherlock hated filing the reports after. He saw paperwork as tedious.

Sighing, Joanne walked over.

"We have already provided video evidence. What more could you possibly need?" Sherlock protested, already on his phone and trying to extricate himself from Lestrade.

Joanne saw the DI rearing up and stepped in to deflect him. "I'll go in, Greg."

Sherlock's eyes flicked over and immediately rolled skyward. "If you must. I have to say, New Scotland Yard must be slipping if they need written testimony in addition to actual video evidence, George."

"It's standard procedure and my name is Greg." Lestrade growled.

Sighing, Sherlock gave him a pained look before turning to Joanne. "Don't forget to eat." Sherlock told her as he left, coat swishing behind him.

She could feel Lestrade's eyes on her and she knew he hadn't missed Sherlock's not so subtle reminder.

"What's that all about, then?"

Joanne ignored the question and shrugged, turning and gesturing to the car, ready to get the reports done. They climbed in and she knew he wasn't done.

"I'm a bit worried about you. Is there a reason I need to be? I saw you weren't as active chasing after Sherlock, then there's the fact that not too long ago you collapsed in front of the station and now you've got a self proclaimed sociopath reminding you to take care of yourself instead of the other way around. Is there something I need to know?" He asked as he drove.

Joanne debated telling him. It would come out sooner or later. Soon there would be no hiding her pregnancy. As it was, her trousers and jeans were already impossible to button up and close. She'd had to use an elastic to make room and had taken to wearing her longer jumpers to hide things. It was hard for her to tell people things. She didn't mind talking but she was typically pretty private and people would definitely have questions. She just wasn't sure how to answer them.

Lestrade's eyes darted to her occasionally, keeping an eye on her as he drove and she could see he was worried.

"Are you sick?" He asked.

Joanne took a deep breath. "No, Greg. I'm fine. I'm just going through some stuff."

Lestrade's jaw clenched and he frowned. "Just...just remember that I'm here if you need to talk."

"I know, mate. Ta." Joanne gave a tight smile, feeling guilt a deflecting her friend's concern.

On the way to the station Greg talked about the upcoming rugby match between England and New Zealand but Joanne only listened with half an ear, her thoughts fully centered on tomorrow afternoon's doctor appointment and with the problem of just what she was going to tell people.

Mycroft had been to two of her prenatal appointments which had been little more than mere formalities. She had steadfastly refused him entrance during any private exams but allowed him in to talk with the doctor. Joanne had allowed him to change her doctor to London Pregnancy Care on Tooley Street because a Holmes was a force of nature and, sometimes, it was just best to let them win. She didn't mind the new doctor, a James Thomlinson, but she did sense that he wasn't approving of her...or more accurately, her career choices.

His comments about her taking it easy, resting more, and patronizing attempts to cater towards the ideals set forth by men who believe that once a woman is pregnant she should stop everything and that they were incapable of taking care of themselves was exactly what she had fought against her entire life. It was as if he had conveniently forgotten that she was a doctor herself and that she had served queen and country as an officer. It was infuriating but Mycroft had said he was the best and she let it go.

She needed to talk with Mycroft but he had been away the past few days on some assignment and hadn't contacted her except to remind her of their appointment via text. Joanne was wondering just what she was supposed to tell people. Mycroft was like a shadowy figure, as noticeable as wisps of smoke in the wind and just as fast at disappearing. She knew that he was more important than he made out and that made their situation more dangerous especially with her being partially in the public eye next to Sherlock.

Could she tell her friends who the father was? Would Mycroft even be on the birth certificate? How involved would he be when the baby was born? Would he want to be there for the birth? Her face heated in embarrassment at the thought of Mycroft...or anyone for that matter seeing her like that.

Now that she was at twelve weeks she was at the end of her first trimester and this little Holmes seemed to be sticking around, Joanne wondered just what she was going to do.

"Ah, here we are." Greg smiled and pulled into the underground car park at the station.

As they made their way upstairs, she could still see Greg watching her closely. Sherlock was right. He wasn't really good at subtle but she did appreciate his concern even if it was a bit wearing. It made her a bit anxious about when she did finally tell him about the pregnancy. He was an old fashioned bloke and she hoped he would be alright with it.

xXxpagebreakxXx

Joanne growled as she juggled her papers on the tube. Because Sherlock had not helped with the final paperwork for NSY, Jo had been up half the night and had been late to work because she had overslept. Sara had been extremely unhappy, especially when Joanne reminded her she needed to leave early.

She had been forced to take her charting with her after work to finish and, was currently, trying to cram them into her rucksack to finish them when she got home. She hadn't gotten her customary call from the elder Holmes and was beginning to become a bit annoyed. This was the first appointment that would actually be memorable and not just a questions answered sort of thing. Today they were going to have a scan to check the baby's progress and basic anatomy.

She got to the clinic in record time and looked around, not spotting the elder Holmes. He was never late. It felt strange not having him there despite the fact that she hadn't even expected him to take such a keen interest before.

Jo looked around, still waiting for him to show up when her name was called by the nurse. She couldn't help feeling a slight stab of disappointment. Maybe it was becoming too real for him.

She followed the nurse into a rather posh exam room, the blinds drawn and the ultrasound machine powered up. Her heart started to pound at the thought of seeing the proof. Seeing is believing and, before, it had not seemed as tangible. Maybe Mycroft was right. This appointment was more. Watson started to back up and hit a solid body.

"Now, now, Miss Watson. There's no need to be nervous. We've all had a bit of a fright before at becoming mums and dads." He guided her reluctant form to the gurney next to the machine. She wasn't frightened! Hell, she'd faced down assassins and had been to war!

"My wife was absolutely terrified with her first but by the time our third came around she was an old pro. You'll be the same when you have your second." He helped her onto the gurney.

_Her second!_ Maybe she was a little frightened. Just a bit. She gaped at the man and strongly considered making a run for it but his nurse stood by the door making notes in her chart. She was just trying to survive this one. She was definitely _not_ doing this again. One was enough to be getting on with.

"Just unbutton your trousers and lower them a bit so I can get a good image and measure your fundal height. It was a bit higher than expected last time." He smiled indulgently. "Maybe you've got a little rugby player in there." He chuckled and Joanne took a deep breath, lowering her trousers enough for the doctor to get her measurements in.

He frowned as he pressed down with the measuring tape, his grey eyebrows low. "Are you sure about the conception date?"

"Yes, I'm _very_ aware of when this baby was conceived. I even have the time if you'd like." Joanne replied.

Thomlinson patted her arm. "Oh, it wouldn't be the first time a couple got the dates mixed up. It happens with everyone."

"We're not a couple." Watson said between clenched teeth and the doctor looked at her with sympathy. Oh, great. Now she had to tell people that another Holmes wasn't her boyfriend.

"Maybe in time." He ignored her reply. It was like a male version of Mrs. Hudson.

He put away the measuring tape and while the nurse took her blood pressure, pulse, and temperature, the old doctor tucked a towel around her. "Now, let's see just what this little one is up to."

The gel was cold and she hissed in discomfort but held still as the doctor put the wand on her abdomen. The screen was turned away and she waited as the doctor took measurements.

"Hmm...well, this would explain the size discrepancy." He swung the monitor towards her and Joanne's heart stopped.

Thomlinson beamed at her and she just felt sick. "Congratulations, Miss Watson. You're having twins!"

There was a roaring in her ears and she didn't hear the rest of the OB's words as he focused on sizes, location of placentas and basically giving her a guided tour of her uterus. She didn't hear anything as her heart was pounding in her ears. Her eyes couldn't focus on her surrounding as she stared at the screen, seeing it labeled with 'baby A' and 'baby B'.

"Miss Watson? Are you alright?" The doctor's face appeared in front of hers. Was she even breathing?

"I..I have to go." Her voice sounded weird to her and Thomlinson looked worried, his hand touching the inside of her wrist. The feel of it startled Jo and she jerked her hand out of his grasp and scrambled away from him.

She pulled up her trousers and left, the doctor's shouts being ignored as she left the office. The trip outside didn't even register as Joanne suddenly found herself standing on the pavement throwing up into the rubbish bin.

She was shaking. She couldn't bloody believe it. There were two! -the fuck! She brought a shaking hand to her mouth and distantly registered that Anthea was next to her offering her a handkerchief which she gladly accepted.

"Dr. Watson, are you ill? Are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance?" The woman's face was pale, probably just as pale as Joanne knew hers was.

She shook her head and let her guide her to the waiting town car. She made to turn back but the woman was persistent in getting her into the car. "My bag. I left it upstairs."

Anthea nodded and left, returning moments later with it and an envelope. She knew that it contained images of the scan. The shock was rapidly wearing off to be replaced with anger. Trust Mycroft to never do things halfway. She was going to castrate the man.

"Where is he?"

xXxpagebreakxXx

Mycroft Holmes shook as another chill took over. He'd already thrown up several times and he felt awful. He hadn't been sick in years. His head pounded as he tried to review the reports and his vision blurred making it impossible to read the paper. He'd tried ignoring it but had been forced to accept being ill when he'd lost his tea last night. He still needed to work through it. There was no room for weakness in his position.

Looking up at the clock, Mycroft felt guilt. Dr. Watson's appointment should be finishing about now. He had wished to be there, to see the proof of their child but he couldn't risk her getting ill so he had stayed away. She had yet to gain back the weight from early on in the pregnancy.

He had texted her to apologize citing an important meeting as the reason for his absence but had become concerned when she hadn't replied and sent his assistant to check on her. The reports on her whereabouts and well-being had been informative but didn't give him any new information for the past hour.

He couldn't stop the shiver that caused his joints to ache and he put his head in his hands, struggling with the headache that was accompanying his other miseries.

He was trying to pull himself together to work when his door slammed open, rattling the hinges. Looking up, he expected Sherlock to be the cause of the dramatic entrance but was surprised when he saw a red-faced Watson at the door with rumpled clothes, a hint of gel on the edge of her knit shirt with a flustered PA behind her.

He started to reply when he felt the now-familiar feeling of nausea and bent over his dust bin, only bringing up water as he dry-heaved painfully.

"Oh, my _god_! Mycroft, what the bloody hell are you doing at work?" Cool hands brushed against his forehead and he couldn't help leaning into the touch.

"You're burning up." Grabbing his wrist, the blond took his pulse, practically scowling as she timed him. He swallowed hard against being sick again and straightened, glaring at Anthea.

"She is not supposed to be here. You were ordered to check in on her and take her home." To his surprise, the brunette didn't look afraid of him, she looked more afraid of the small woman taking his pulse which was preposterous.

"You know, Mycroft, that tone of voice might be more convincing if it wasn't so hoarse from vomiting." She took a piece of paper and a pen from his desk and started writing.

"Is there anything critical today or tomorrow?" Joanne asked his PA and, to his indignation, she answered.

"No, ma'am. I can clear his schedule."

"Here. Go get this stuff and get a car to meet us. I'm taking Mr. Holmes home where he is going to go to bed." She handed the list to Anthea. Mycroft couldn't talk, so focused on fighting on not being sick again. He distantly registered that they were talking about him as if he was a child rather than to him.

Joanne knelt in front of him and peered at his face, brushing her fingers around his neck to feel his glands and he brushed her off. "You need to go home. I can't have you getting ill, especially in your condition."

"_Sod my condition!_" Standing up, the blond glared at him and started to pull him up with firm but gentle hands. "You are being ridiculous coming to work in this state. You are the one going home."

She manhandled him out of his office and into his car. He closed his eyes and clamped his lips shut to combat the nausea during the ride. He despised weakness.

They arrived at his house and she carefully guided him up the steps, giving him concerned glances frequently. An agent stood at his door with a large bag and her own rucksack that she took and he jumped as she rummaged in his trouser pocket for his keys.

"Come on. Let's get you into bed." She continued to assist him and he couldn't help it as he leaned on her, letting her help him up the stairs.

"I'm fine." He protested but she just continued to half carry him up the stairs to his room.

She scoffed and sat him on his bed, rummaging through his drawers and finding a pair of pajama bottoms. He drew the line at her dressing him and shook her off.

While he struggled with the clothing, Watson set about going through the bag.

"I wish your brother was this compliant when he gets ill. He believes his body is transport and that he can will it away. Stubborn bastard." Joanne wasn't looking at him as she started to unfold an IV pole and attached a bag to it. He blanched further as he saw the needle.

"Is this truly necessary?" He panted, exhausted and just wanting to sleep.

"Yes. It wouldn't have been had you stayed home and seen a doctor. You're dehydrated and your heart rate is far too high." Glancing at him she took his arm and applied the tourniquet. He started to pull away and she stopped.

"Are-are you afraid of needles?" Mycroft groaned in response and Joanne's eyes lit up in amusement. "The British government is afraid of needles. I never thought I'd see the day that Mycroft Holmes was scared of anything." She patted his arm and smirked. "I promise I won't hurt you although, you do deserve it considering how foolish you were going in like this."

"I do find you rather intimidating at times, Dr. Watson. Rather more than the idea of needles." He looked down when he felt tape being applied and was surprised. He hadn't even felt it.

"See? Told you." She set about pulling his blankets back and tucking him in before going back to the back and pulling out syringes and ampoules. "Your secret's safe with me." She started to inject the medication into the port. "Alright, now I'm going to give you a few things to help you. Some zofran to help with the nausea, a small dose of pain medication along with an anti-pyretic and the IV should stabilize your electrolyte balance."

He didn't have a chance to protest as she quickly finished pushing the medicine in and he suddenly felt a lot better. In fact, he felt fantastic. He blinked at her confused, the lights behind her twinkling in a friendly way and making her hair sparkle. Looking at his doctor, he smiled ridiculously wide.

Joanne set about taking his vitals and he noticed just how blond her hair was as it brushed against his face when she checked his lungs with the stethoscope, almost like the flowers behind the summer cottage his parents owned. He'd never noticed it before and he reached up a hand to touch it, wondering if it was as soft as it looked but she turned away before he could reach her to collect a small flashlight. Her eyes were a beautiful blue like a clear summer's day as she checked his eyes and throat and her smile...it was enchanting. She left and Mycroft sighed as he laid back, his pillow was so soft.

"Wow. You are a lightweight." She huffed a laugh. "I only gave you a quarter dose that I would give a child. You must have been sicker than I thought."

He moaned as she placed a cool washcloth on his forehead, pulled up his blankets and tucked him in. His eyes closed and the tension bled away as the medication took effect. He felt the bed dip as she settled next to him above the covers. This was nice. He liked her being next to him.

"Uh, thank you?" Had he said that out loud? Her gentle laugh made him feel warm and he drifted asleep, finally feeling relief.

xXxpagebreakxXx

Mycroft woke, finding himself feeling much better. His head no longer hurt and he actually felt hungry. His nausea was almost gone. He heard soft breathing next to him. He looked over and remembered. Joanne had taken him home.

He looked around, spying the IV pole with a fresh bag, halfway through, and he remembered her caring for him. Berating him at the same time but her touches had been gentle.

He turned on his side and spied the doctor leaning back against the headboard with her legs crossed in front of her, her chin drooping on her chest as she slept. She had patient charts on her lap and her biro in a loose grip with her medical bag between them. She looked exhausted.

Her hair was half out of the loose twist from earlier and blond wisps fell around her face as she slept. He noticed she wasn't wearing the shirt that she had had on when she had abducted him from his office, instead, she had on one of his blue button-downs. It was far too big, the sleeves rolled up to compensate for her shorter arms and he liked how it looked on her for some reason. It looked better on her.

She mumbled and slid down on the bed to lie down fully, her papers falling and she faced him still asleep, her mouth slightly open as she breathed. A strand fell over her face, hiding her from him and he reached out to brush it away but stopped, his hand hovering. He didn't want to risk waking her.

Glancing at the clock, he saw it was almost eight in the morning. Had she slept at all? She shouldn't be doing this. She was the one who needed to rest. He was supposed to be the one caring for her, not the other way around. What if she got what he had? Would it put her at risk? As it was, he could see that she had been asleep maybe an hour. The previous night she had only rested for four.

He scowled at the fact that she was risking her health and that his assistant had betrayed him to her. Joanne shivered and rolled onto her back, the button-down riding up and that was when Mycroft saw it, the swell of her abdomen. She typically hid it under her clothes, almost as if by hiding it she could deny it. This was the first time it was obvious what it was. The last time he had seen it, it had only resembled a little extra weight but now, now it showed.

He looked her over and, even though she was clearly exhausted, she seemed to glow. He hadn't had much faith in the myth of women glowing when they were expecting but he was glad to be proven wrong because Dr. Watson, she glowed.

He shook his head to clear it. It had to be the medication and illness making him feel these things. It had to be responsible for the warm feeling in his chest at the sight of her sleeping next to him.

He watched her, taking in the sight of her and relaxing for the first time in the past day. Whatever she had done, it had helped immensely. He was no longer sticky with sweat and he saw the basin with the wash cloth next to him. Had she cleaned him? His face felt hot as the thought of her caring for him was embarrassing.

Joanne's breathing changed and her eyelids fluttered, opening to reveal those blue eyes. "You're awake." She pushed herself up and cleared away the mess of charts, viewing him with a clinical eye. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. Better now."

She scoffed and started to take his blood pressure. "I'll be the judge of that."

Mycroft waited patiently as she examined him. She really was efficient. She was wasted working at that lowly surgery. He gestured to the shirt. "Why-?"

Joanne blushed. "Sorry. You threw up on my top and I didn't have a spare. I'll return it when mine's finished in the washer." She finished his exam, gently palpating his abdomen.

"Well, you seem a bit better now that you've gotten fluids. You've just got a bit of a stomach bug that's been going around." She pointed at his left arm and he saw a plaster. "I checked your white count and a few other things while you were asleep and confirmed it. Do you think you can manage some toast and juice?"

He nodded and she left. He didn't like how tired she looked. She was quick to return and she placed a tray of food in front of him, watching expectantly as he ate. He suspected his brother had instilled that behavior in her.

He suddenly remembered her appointment. She had been angry when she had come in but why? He didn't think it had been because he had missed it. She was independent and would have understood him being occupied elsewhere.

"How did the appointment with Dr. Thomlinson go?"

Her expression shuttered and his heart sped up in worry. Was there something wrong with the baby? Something wasn't adding up and he cursed being sick. His thoughts were far too slow.

"It was...interesting. I borrowed a doppler so you can hear if you'd like since you missed the ultrasound. It's not the same but..." Joanne rummaged through her bag and laid back in her spot on the bed next to him, squirting a small amount of gel on her belly and she pressed a small wand on herself. He heard a gentle whoosh whoosh.

"That's me. Hang on a mo." She moved the device slightly and he heard it, a much faster beat. It was amazing. He smiled as she played the sound. It felt real, the proof of the life that was growing inside.

"This is the baby's heartbeat. A healthy 147 beats per minute." She moved the device slightly to her right and he heard the beat again.

"And this is the other baby's heartbeat."

Wait..._what_?

"I beg your pardon?" His mind stuttered. There were two! Now it made sense why she had come barging into his office. Did she blame him? Was she truly angry or was it fear? He had yet to see her back down from a challenge but he knew she could handle it.

"Yeah. Two. Clearly you weren't as infertile as you thought." She scowled at him but Mycroft didn't care. He had been hoping for just a single child and, here she was, giving him two. Joanne Watson was constantly surprising him. He felt pride and awe at the knowledge that he was going to be a father to two.

"You're lucky you're poorly otherwise I'd have punched you." There was little heat in her words. Clearly, being sick had it's advantages.

"Twins?"

She rolled her eyes and shrugged, a smile hinting at her lips. "Yeah. Twins." Laughing, the blond put away the device and wiped herself down. "You Holmeses are going to be the death of me." She sighed and looked away, her eyes distant as she thought. At least she seemed to have forgiven him.

She shifted and reached into her pocket. "Anthea brought the pictures. I kind of left a bit quick after and forgot them."

He took the offered envelope and opened it. The grainy image made little sense but with Watson's help, he could make out his children. He saw four arms and four legs, two little heads and two little bodies. He wonder if her could get her to agree to a more detailed scan the next time. He wanted to know more about these two little beings.

"Mycroft, I'm not sure I can do this. Everything's doubled now."

He gripped her hand, giving it a squeeze. "I rather think you'll be able to handle two Holmeses."

She gave him a warm look and returned the gesture, the warm feeling increasing in his chest. "Who said they were going to be Holmeses. There's nothing wrong with being a Watson."

A shrill ringing interrupted them and Joanne let go, his hand suddenly feeling cold at her absence. He distracted himself by finishing his toast as she answered her mobile to try and give her some measure of privacy.

"Hi Patrick! No, I'm at a friend's."

And, just like that, all the warmth he had been feeling evaporated.

Joanne turned back to him. "No. I've got a half-shift at the surgery at noon but I'll need to come back and check on my friend. I have to cancel tonight. I'm sorry."

Mycroft was conflicted. On the one hand he preferred that she was placing him over the accountant but, on the other hand, wasn't she giving him enough? Her friendship? Children? He didn't have friends but, like his brother, he counted Watson as one.

"You can go."

Joanne's eyes flicked up to his and he could read her indecision. She truly was awful at hiding her emotions but that wasn't a failure. In fact, it was one of her better attributes.

She held the phone loose in her hand as she tried to read him better, still unsure. "Uh..."

He pulled himself back and reigned his feelings in, no longer smiling and no longer allowing this weakness. Joanne must have seen the change because she turned away from him.

"Yeah, Patrick. I guess-I guess I'm ok for tonight." She threw a final curious glance over her shoulder at him. "I'll-I'll see you at eight."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Sherlock lay back, contemplating his latest problem. Over the last several weeks, he had began to notice his brother's growing interest in his flat mate/friend but it had been a slow and cautious thing. Normally, in life, Mycroft Holmes was never slow or cautious unless it was in work but, even then, every possibility was considered and accounted for and it was a sure plan. This was...different. It was closer behavior to when they were children. Mycroft would hold himself back, usually when he was afraid-yes, as tedious as it was to think it, he was afraid-of getting hurt or rejected.

It had been when he had started at secondary school, Mycroft was in his final year in sixth form, and the school had decided to hold a formal dance. Sherlock had had no interest in such things, his focus now firmly centered on science but Mycroft, his attentions had drifted from his schoolwork and onto a girl in his year, Meredith.

She was everything they, as Holmes, were not. Social, popular, a bright light that brought attention anywhere she went. She was nowhere near their intelligence but she had a gift for making anyone who was the object of her favor a powerful person. Her connections through familial links and her skills put anyone who was associated with her would lift them up. But, as Sherlock had also seen, she had a singular skill for destroying those she did not like and Mycroft was one she did not.

Mycroft had been young, foolish even. He was ambitious, even at a young age, but he had been weak. His focus had been limited to just the allure of the young woman not the potential benefits or dangers of her but just to her. Unlike most of her previous 'boyfriends' Mycroft, for once in his dull life, had been interested in her. Sherlock had seen the way he'd looked at her, the way his eyes had followed her, his inability to focus on his class work, the way he'd flush bright red (almost the color of his hair) when she'd walk past. He'd even had the misfortune of walking in on him practicing asking her on a date in front of a mirror. It had been mortifying for both parties involved.

Meredith had been the one to start his change into the iceman he was today. Sherlock had had front row seats to the fallout. It had been the day abefore the dance and Mycroft, a lovesick, pimply, teenager, had approached Meredith in the lunch hall. He had made the mistake of not speaking to her in private. He had seen the devastated and humiliated look on his face as Meredith and her group of friends had laughed and mocked him. Even Sherlock had felt horror at the sight of his brother's crushed face.

Meredith had practically made Mycroft into running joke at the school. His previous contacts for his future had dried up and he had been forced to restructure his entire education to avoid those who were associated with Meredith's family and friends. He had been seen as weak and Mycroft was determined to end that false perception. It took more effort but he eventually got back on track. Although, embarrassingly pornographic video of Meredith and a university professor of Sherlock's that went mysteriously public did lower her influence and her family's position in politics. Sherlock had never liked that professor anyway.

How Mycroft had looked at Meredith when he was younger was much like how he was looking at Joanne now. His focus on her had been more than just idle curiosity from the moment he had met her. Sherlock had realized that when Mycroft had taken such a keen interest in the doctor. None of his previous associates had caused this reaction in the elder Holmes before. Mycroft would never have asked for advice from those he considered beneath him nor would he have ever gone out of his way to have 'meetings' despite the knowledge that she likely wouldn't be able to solve the cases he sent their way. He would have simply bypassed her and contacted him for the answers he sought.

There were further signs of his brother's infatuation. If he had simply wanted to 'further his genes' then he would never have started to attend, what was likely, her boring medical appointments. He would have simply accessed the medical records as his attendance made no impact on the fetus's health. Then there was the marked increase in her protection. Since their new association had begun, Mycroft had steadily been increasing his laser focus on them which had made his ability to do the work difficult at best, impossible at worst.

Despite his brother's interference, there was one thing that was worse. Watson's current boyfriend. Percy? Paul? He shook his head in annoyance. The name wasn't important. What was important was how irritating the man was. How dull. The man was a distraction and wanted to pull Joanne away from their way of life. He was trying to shape Watson into who he wanted, stifling her and, by association, him. He didn't understand why she was still dating this amoeba.

The man was vain. He had no real ambition apart from securing a wife and having that wife cater to his whims believing himself to be superior by the fact that he was a man. Perhaps Joanne felt that she needed stability now that she was gestating? She hadn't even told Peter? Percy? about the baby, likely out of fear. It would make far more sense for her to end it now. That man had no respect for strong women if his internet habits were anything to go by despite the fact that he was far from strong himself.

The idea of Watson with his brother repulsed him but the idea of her with Peter-Well-whatever his name was-it was an abhorrent thought of Joanne staying with him and Mycroft was the lesser of two evils. It was likely to fail soon anyway and it was a waste of time to draw it out.

He needed more data. Standing, Sherlock grabbed his coat. He needed to observe Joanne. She hadn't been in since yesterday which was when her obstetrics appointment was. Despite evidence to the contrary, he did keep track of some of the more mundane things. It was less tedious when it had to do with Joanne Watson, though.

He pulled out his mobile, quickly typing in the program to track Watson's phone. There were some advantages to having Mycroft as a brother. The app showed her at Mycroft's home. Well...that was unusual.

He hailed a cab and watched the app but Joanne stayed at Mycroft's. He got out a street over to prevent being seen and was rewarded when he spied Joanne leaving Mycroft's, unseen. Really, she should be more observant of her surroundings. It was a miracle she survived to adulthood much less her time associated with him or his brother.

He looked closer, curious to see why she had been with Mycroft. She was wearing her jacket and trousers but she was also wearing a shirt of Mycroft's and taking a bag of rubbish to the bin. He could see that her hair was down, likely because she didn't have a brush to help putting it back in it's usual ponytail. Even though she was dressed in Mycroft's shirt it was wrinkled showing she had slept in it, not pressed as if she'd pulled it on it the morning. Either Mycroft had an unusual fetish of her wearing his clothes or, more likely, she had simply slept in it because her own clothing had become damaged or dirty. Her face was pale and there were dark circles underneath showing that, what little sleep she did have it was far from enough.

He waited until she had turned the corner to get a bus and made his way to his brother's. Sherlock lifted the bin lid and spotted IV bags, her shirt stained from vomit, a large amount of paper towels and used cleaning supplies. So...Mycroft was sick enough that his self-sacrificing flat mate stayed to care for him.

What was unusual was that his brother who lived and breathed his work had allowed it. Although...Joanne was a stubbornly persistent doctor and ridiculously loyal friend despite their attempts to curb this behavior. As if they could really defend themselves against her when she had her mind set. Sherlock could take down ruthless killers and Mycroft could incite civil wars but, against Joanne Watson...they stood no chance.

Sherlock moved quickly, silently slinking through the house to where his brother's room was and he was surprised. It was one of the few times Mycroft did not have papers surrounding him or a computer/laptop in front of him. He looked...sad. He was looking at a small piece of paper. Sherlock watched as Mycroft sighed, shook his head and stuffed the paper in an envelope, carefully placing it in his nightstand.

Sentiment? Definitely.

"Brother mine, if you are going to continue in your juvenile attempts to spy on me at least do me the courtesy of doing so successfully."

Sherlock bristled at the accusation and walked in. "I suspect that I am more successful than you due to your habit of leaving crumb trails from your sweets."

Mycroft glared at him but it lacked his usual fire. He took advantage and settled himself in the armchair next to the fireplace. "I am here to ask though, if you are appropriating my friend for the night to let me know."

An eye twitch.

"After all, I do know she is in high demand considering she has her date tonight." Sherlock said carefully as he watched his brother. Mycroft must either be extremely ill or he cared for Joanne more than Sherlock had predicted. Sherlock could read him far more easily than usual and he saw Mycroft's jaw clench and his right hand clenching into a fist, likely wanting to sink it into Watson's current paramour.

He pulled on a smug smile, knowing that it would irritate Mycroft to no end. "Is there something you wish to say on the matter of Dr. Watson and her dating?"

"Don't be smart, Sherlock!" He snapped.

"Oh, that takes me back. 'Don't be smart, Sherlock. I'm the smart one.'." Sherlock mocked and it riled Mycroft up further.

"I am the smart one." He growled.

Sherlock arched a brow indicating his thought on Mycroft's claim. "Oh, really?"

Mycroft composed himself enough to smile. "Both of us thought you were the idiot." Sherlock's eyes narrowed at him as he continued. "We had nothing else to go on until we met other children."

Just why was he helping him again? "Well, that was a mistake, Mycroft."

Mycroft chuckled and shifted in bed. "Ghastly. What were our parents thinking of?"

Shrugging, Sherlock picked up a small trinket off the end table. "Probably some thing about us making friends."

"Oh, yes. 'Friends'. You do go in for that sort of thing now."

Sherlock placed the small trinket down, making sure to place it off-center to piss Mycroft off. "And you don't? Ever?" He eyed him, making sure to read him closely. And there it was, the hint of sadness in his gray eyes, the loneliness that Mycroft sought to hide beneath a false veneer of disdain.

"If you seem slow to me, Sherlock, can you imagine what real people are like? I'm living in a world of goldfish." Mycroft sniffed and looked away.

Sherlock very well knew he considered Watson a friend despite keeping himself distanced. What he needed to see was evidence of him thinking of her as more. "Oh, well, I don't know. Perhaps, I'd thought you'd found yourself a goldfish."

Mycroft's eyes narrowed. "Change the subject, now."

Sherlock's smile grew into a knowing smirk. Perhaps this was his gift as much as his skill of deduction. Being able to spar with his brother on an even ground was something few could do. "Perhaps she's not so much a goldfish as you may think. After all, she can handle a Holmes."

"You know very well that to associate with me could destroy her."

Sherlock snorted and rolled his eyes. "I think you should stop hiding and at least try."

"She is currently in a relationship and she appears happy. I will not interfere any more with her life than I already have." Mycroft pursed his lips as if he'd tasted something bitter.

Time to place the final piece in his attack. "Well, if you think that then you are clearly not the smart one in the family." Shrugging, Sherlock watched him from the corner of his eye. "Unless you truly want your offspring to be raised by that fool she is associating with."

Mycroft snarled and Sherlock knew his work here was finished. He left quickly, knowing that he was successful on one front. He just needed to do a few more things before tonight.

xXx

Sherlock cracked an eye open as she came in the door. There had to have been something different about this appointment. He eyed his friend as she hung up her jacket, her shirt sliding up enough to show the, now round, baby bump. He was surprised that people didn't notice it but, then again, people never observe properly.

He watched as she looked around the flat, her nose wrinkling. "Have you been on the settee all day?" Joanne sniffed, her eyes darting around and settling in the kitchen.

"Is that my dress!?" Running over, Watson gaped at the destroyed garment. She was so focused on the burned, cut up, stained fabric that she missed Sherlock's small smile.

"Experiment."

"Oh, my god! It's ruined!" Spinning on her heels, she stomped over and Sherlock had a moment of fear for his life. Jo's eyes were flashing dangerously and her fists were clenched.

"That was the one dress I had left that fit, you git!" She let out a breath, running her hands through her hair and pulling on it slightly. "I'm going to have to go shopping."

That had been what he had been hoping for. He knew that that was the last 'date dress'. He calculated that she would likely have to go to the closest Marks and Spencer's, then on to several other clothing shops. He expected her back in two hours, three if she was taking the tube which was almost guaranteed. Enough time to meet her date for a small time.

"If this date goes wrong, I'm gonna come looking for you so you'd better watch out because I'm short and my hits tend to go low." Her eyes darted downwards and he cringed very obviously for effect, knowing that she was waiting for it. Oh, she'd never hurt him but she'd be pretty tetchy for a few days.

The moment Watson left Sherlock went to work setting up the screen with different wall textures for his blood spatter test to see the differences between weapons and what it'd look like on different surfaces when bludgeoning certain body parts. This was one that even Joanne had shown interest in so it was killing two birds with one stone.

He had gotten halfway through his tools (knives, shovels, rounders bats, chair legs, etc.) when he heard footsteps on the stairs (too heavy for Joanne and too quick for Mrs. Hudson).

He knew that he was successful when Joanne's date had stopped walking and started to move away from the blood covered consulting detective as he removed his face shield with his largest smile and placed an head in a jar of sulphuric acid to ensure he could see what the bones would look like post trauma.

The man was positively green as Sherlock started cutting into the scalp of his next skull, carefully ensuring that everything was within his "guest's" field of vision.

He swallowed loudly and looked around the flat, as if Joanna would appear out of thin air. "Where's Joanne?"

"She's just gone down to the shops. She'll be back soon, Phillip."

"Patrick."

"Who?"

"My name is Patrick." He growled.

"Boring."

The man's eyes drifted warily to the mess in the kitchen and back to Sherlock who pulled out his next head. He'd specifically saved this one for this moment. The passing resemblance to Watson's "boyfriend" was uncanny. There were even the hair transplant scars on the scalp. He still couldn't believe that she would date someone who practiced crop rotation on his scalp.

He reached out a gore-covered hand. "Pass me the cleaver."

The man backed up, his back hitting the wall and face draining of color. "You're a bloody psychopath!"

Sherlock looked up and smiled. "High functioning sociopath who's friend you are currently dating."

The door suddenly opened and Joanne took in the scene, her eyes widening in shock before she covered her face with her hands and shaking but, looking closer, Sherlock could see she was hiding her laughter. Well, that went better than was expected.

xXxI love the idea of Sherlock playing matchmaker and I hope I got Sherlock's character right?xXx

Joanne forced a smile as Patrick talked about his day at work. She was very nervous about telling him about the pregnancy not knowing how he'd react. He'd noticed she'd gotten a little rounder around the middle but hadn't really forced the issue apart from a comment here and there. She was pretty much out of time and needed to tell him soon. She'd been hoping to tell him at the flat but Sherlock had pretty much killed that possibility so she settling for going to his place.

It had actually been pretty funny watching Patrick turn green at Sherlock's antics. Jo had been surprised that it had taken him this long to "break in" her date. She had to give Patrick some credit. He didn't run away, yet.

She sipped at her sparkling water and tugged slightly on the bottom of the blouse in a nervous tic she'd been doing lately with all of her clothes. At the end of their date she was going back to his place and she'd tell him then. Patrick was a nice bloke. Polite, normal...boring. But wasn't boring a good thing sometimes?

Things hadn't progressed far between them but it was more on her part than his. He seemed like an alright guy, if a bit vain. She just couldn't shake the feeling of wrong. Then there was the fact that she knew, despite Mycroft's assurances of her privacy remaining in tact, he had to be watching her or having her watched and it almost felt like a betrayal to Mycroft if she went further with Patrick for some reason.

To top it all off, there was the issue of mixed signals last night. It had weighed heavily on her mind today, keeping her more alert than usual despite her fatigue as she mulled it over. Mycroft had been practically affectionate, especially in his sleep. It had taken a lot of willpower to not record it on her camera phone as he had turned into an octopus and latched onto her in the night. She hadn't been able to move for hours. Every time she had, he just held on tighter, almost as if she was his teddy bear.

Shaking her head, Jo decided to put it off as side effects from the medication and fever-like behavior. She'd had patients before act similar when they were as ill as the elder Holmes was. Although, he had seemed...different this morning and he had been clear-headed. His emotions seemed closer to the surface and he had almost been happy. It had disappeared quickly once he woke up all the way though. It had to have been a fluke...but it had been a nice fluke.

Patrick paid despite Jo's protests and they started the walk to his nearby flat. They'd gotten about halfway there when they passed an alley and a gangly, filthy, teenager in a hoodie with a small pocket-knife jumped out.

"Give me your wallet and handbag!"

Jo barely had a moment to take stock of the situation before she felt a shove from her right that forced her mostly into the alley and closer to the mugger. Jo turned around to see Patrick fleeing.

"SERIOUSLY!?" Watson shouted at his back. "Wanker!"

"Oi! Give me your handbag! I'll cut you!"

Joanne Watson drew herself up, feeling the familiar euphoria of adrenalin flooding her, sharpening her senses, and slowly turned towards the young man holding the knife. Of all the people he could have mugged it had to have been her. She widened her stance, wondering if it'd be her or one of Mycroft's minions that'd take him down.

She looked distinctly unimpressed at him and the hand holding the knife shook. "No, you're not." She told him in a calm voice but she still kept her stance light to be ready if he did try anything. She couldn't risk turning her back on him and running herself. He was too unpredictable and clearly desperate.

"Yes, I am!" He stepped forward but Watson could see that he was nervous. This was probably his first time and he was definitely in withdrawal and confused by her calm refusal if the shaking was anything to go by. "Give me the bag, now!"

Lunging forward the mugger attempted to slash her while she side-stepped and hit his wrist, knocking the knife out of his grip. Watson used his momentum against him and pushed on his back, slamming him to the ground. She spun around and kicked him in between his shoulder blades as he tried to get up and immediately followed with her knee in the middle of his back to pin him and twisted his arm up behind him.

"Oh, God! You're breaking my arm!"

Rolling her eyes, Jo reached over and grabbed her, now broken, purse strap and started tying his wrists behind him. "It's not broken, it's just sprained."

Once he was secured, she hauled him up into a sitting position, looking him over. A bruise was gonna form on his cheekbone and he had some scratches but he wasn't hurt too bad.

"It 'urts! I know it's broken!" He protested.

"I'm a doctor, it's not broken." She argued back as she stood and walked over to her purse to get her mobile to call the police to pick up her would-be mugger.

"Oh, god! You're 'urt! Are you alright?" He gasped, his eyes on her.

She was in the middle of dialing 999 when his words registered and Jo looked down, seeing blood on her left side. "What?" Lifting up her top, she could see a good size cut, not too deep but enough to look frightening for someone who wasn't medically trained by the amount of blood. She'd probably need a few small stitches but she could handle it at home. She really didn't want this much fuss. Her jacket was also a casualty.

"And you're preggers! I only meant to scare you!"

"I'm fine." She snapped. Tonight was not her night.

She pressed a hand to her side as pounding footsteps came up behind her.

"Agent Riley, MI-5, Doctor Watson. An ambulance is on the way and so are local law enforcement. DI Lestrade heard what was going on and is on his way, too."

She was gonna kill Patrick! Adrenalin fading, the sting of the cut started bugging her. She still couldn't believe the wanker shoved her forward as a distraction for him to get away. Bastard.

" 'old up! You've got spooks following you?"

Jo gave the mugger a an irritated glance. The young man's eyes widened in terror as Riley placed cuffs on him and secured him. Panda cars and an ambulance pulled up with their lights flashing, quickly taking custody of her attacker and Watson was herded to the ambulance.

Fortunately, it was a crew that her and Sherlock were well acquainted with. The agent held her arm as if she would suddenly faint and guided her to the waiting ambulance.

"I am so sorry, Doctor. I couldn't see what was happening. I knew something was wrong when Mr. Goodall ran out alone without you. Mr. Holmes...oh, God!" He ran a hand through his hair and his face was white in fear. What exactly did Mycroft get up to to cause this much fear in an agent? She almost didn't want to know.

Joanne gave him, what was hopefully, a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, Agent Riley. It's just a scratch. I don't even need to go in to hospital."

Keeley and John didn't even bat an eye at her as she pulled up her shirt to expose her wound and abdomen for them to look and help her bandage everything, carefully applying the steri-strips to pull the cut closed.

"Ma'am, I must insist! I'm charged with your well-being and-" Riley argued.

"Tell Mycroft I told you to sod off. I will bloody well go home and try to salvage the rest of my night by having a pint of ice cream and fantasizing punching my ex-boyfriend." She hissed through gritted teeth when the sting of the antiseptic burned her.

John had finished applying the bandage when things got worse.

"_You're pregnant?_" Lestrade's voice caught her attention. He sounded like he'd been punched.

She almost wondered if she should just hand out a flyer.

Greg was stood next to Agent Riley, mouth open and gaping.

She jerked down her new shirt and sighed. "Yeah, Greg."

He looked hurt that she hadn't told him and very worried.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked quietly and Jo felt bad for keeping it from him but she wasn't sure how to tell anyone. Would Mycroft even be comfortable with being known as the father?

"It's complicated."

His face screwed up in confusion and Jo knew exactly what he was going to ask next. Sherlock would be proud at her deduction.

Greg hesitated a minute before asking. "Is it Sherlock's?"

"Oh, my _god_! _No_! No, it is not Sherlock's!"


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

"It's not Sherlock's?" Greg asked quietly.

He was driving her home in his car after she'd shaken off Riley. The silence for most of the ride had been uncomfortable to say the least.

"No. It's not Sherlock's." She answered quietly and leaned her head against the doorframe and closed her eyes.

A pause. "Cause it'd be alright if it was. No judgement."

"We aren't together. We're just flatmates."

Greg shrugged, looking sympathetic. "I'm just saying you can tell me the truth. I'll support you."

Jo rolled her eyes. "Alright. I guess I can tell you. It is his. We had a passionate night of lovemaking during the Guthright case. It was everything I'd ever hoped for and more. Sherlock's deductive skills made him the best lover I have ever been with." She told him in a deadpan voice.

Greg's hands slipped on the steering wheel and the car jerked. "What?"

Smiling, Watson turned her head towards him. "No, Greg. It is not Sherlock's. We're just friends."

Lestrade winced. "Sorry. It's just you're always together. I naturally assumed-" He waved a hand vaguely.

Jo smiled but Lestrade was watching the road and not her. "That I've got carpal tunnel?"

Laughing, Greg pulled up across the road from 221. "Now you're just taking the piss."

Warmth bloomed in her chest at Greg's care and nosiness. He was easygoing but cared, not only about her but Sherlock as well. He was one of Jo's best allies when dealing with the chaos that was her best mate. Not only did he care but he respected her.

His eyes drifted away and over her shoulder to the front of 221b. "Now who could that be?"

Watson turned in her seat and groaned. "I don't believe it."

Outside, she spotted an annoyingly familiar black car. "It's Sherlock's brother." A fluttering of the curtains and she knew she'd been spotted and escape wasn't an option.

Greg frowned, looking thoughtful. "Isn't he that posh bloke with the umbrella?"

"Yes." She slunk down in her seat, knowing that she'd have to go up eventually.

Whistling, her friend looked at her sympathetically. "Dealing with two Holmeses is a fate I wouldn't wish on anyone."

Jo snorted. "Don't I know it." She mumbled.

Sighing, the blonde grasped the door handle but looked back at Greg desperately. Well, maybe only a little desperately. "Don't you have a case on? He definitely needs to get out more. He actually was bludgeoning body parts when I left." She knew she was going to have to face them sooner or later. She'd been hoping for later to give herself time to collect herself from the wreck that had been her date.

A squeeze to her shoulder in support and she drew herself up, ready to face the wrath of the, suddenly protective consulting detective and his overbearing, possibly omnipotent, brother. The father of her children. She almost pitied them. They stood no chance growing up to get away with anything under Mycroft's watchful eye; not to mention Sherlock's. Although, he might help them in their future endeavors just to get one over on the elder Holmes.

"You look like you're going to war."

Stepping out of the car, Jo turned around, serious and resigned. "Aren't I?"

Opening the door to 221b, Jo almost considered legging it but she knew that Mycroft probably had an agent ready to drag her back. She'd really only wanted to quickly clean up and watch some mind-numbing telly and go to bed.

Mycroft was sat in Sherlock's leather chair while Sherlock was pacing. The two were complete opposites in their behaviors but it was still concerning. Mycroft was eerily still, his face blank but his eyes like ice. Sherlock, on the other hand, was a veritable whirlwind of chaotic energy. His hair was wild as he moved across the sitting room, face flushed and hands clenching and unclenching. For how observant the Holmeses usually were, it was telling that they hadn't even noticed that she'd stepped into the flat.

She idly wondered if she could manage to traverse the flat to get to her room before being spotted. Before she could finish the thought, Sherlock was on her, gripping her biceps and looking her over with disturbing intensity, focusing on her side and lifting her button-down, dodging her attempts to protect her modesty and muttering deductions at a rapid speed, too fast for her to keep up.

"...small pocket knife, inexperienced based on location...six inch cut, lower left abdomen, right-handed assault. Deep enough to cause enough blood loss to potentially create conditions for fainting, dizziness, nausea. Definitely require stitches but didn't puncture beyond the fascia. Angle is wrong. Definitely an attacking slash but it's as if you leaned into the knife..." His face lit up in understanding. "_Oh!_ Oh! It was when you disarmed him!" His features immediately darkened as he took in the state of her jacket and he immediately pulled it off despite her protests. "Oi!"

Lifting up the right sleeve, he growled. "Bruise marks, upper arm. Shoved hard, enough force to hurt, but not by the attacker. Based on the angle and location of your wound it was towards your attacker as if Patrick used you to propel himself away and to use you as a distraction for his escape." She looked down to where he held her arm gently, a direct contrast to the harsh speech. She hadn't even realized she'd been hurt there.

Jo barely had a chance to remark on Sherlock getting Patrick's name right when he started pulling on his coat.

"Hey! Whoa! Where are you going?" Joanne grabbed his arm, effectively stopping Sherlock from leaving. "I'm fine!"

Sherlock's expression caused her to let go, afraid of him for the first time. He looked her over, his gaze stopping on her blood soaked top. "_Clearly._" He sneered, his voice thick with sarcasm.

He spun on his heel, flying down the stairs and slammed the front door hard enough for the windows to rattle.

Joanne turned to appeal to Mycroft who was watching silently, lips pressed into a thin white line. His body was tense, hands gripping the armrests with white knuckles. "You have to stop him!"

"Why ever would I do that?" His voice was calm, conversational, and if she was on the phone with him she'd never have known just how furious he was.

"Even you can't get him off a murder charge!" She tried.

Mycroft stayed silent and Joanne shivered, the hairs on the back of her neck rising at the implication.

"I'm not some damsel in distress needing you and Sherlock to ride in and save the day. I'm not really hurt."

"I beg to differ." He stood and pulled his suit jacket straight, stiffly holding out an arm to gesture for her to take a seat on the couch. "As will Dr. Thomlinson when he arrives to ensure your health and that of our children since you not only foolishly took a vagrant with a weapon by yourself but also decided against necessary medical intervention."

Joanne threw up her hands in frustration. "What was I supposed to do? Turn tail and run? He was a desperate teenager who was unpredictable. I can handle myself and I can easily treat myself with my kit in the bathroom."

Mycroft's face turned an alarming ruddy color. "That teenager-" He spat the word as if it was an insult. "-could have killed you. He could have killed our children and I know that would have killed you just as effectively. Had that knife been a few centimeters to the right and we might not be having this conversation." He moved closer, his entire being towering over her. "You should have moved away from him while keeping him in sight, waited for the back-up you knew was available. You should have gone straight to hospital because you. Were. Stabbed!"

She could feel her blood-pressure rising and the front of her shirt starting to get damp. The steristrips must have come loose from her movements. Jo knew she needed to tend to it but she didn't want to back down.

"I can out-stubborn even Sherlock Holmes when it comes to his well-being. I can certainly do so with you. So. Lie. Down. Now." Mycroft demanded obedience and Jo did not respond well to alpha males.

"I can take care of myself." She bit out.

He was about to shout back but he stopped himself, deflating and that was when Joanne saw it. His hands shaking. He was scared.

He put his hands on her shoulders and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and his eyes met hers begging her to concede. "Just because you can take care of yourself, it doesn't mean you should always have to. Please allow me this. Allow me to care for you." He whispered.

Joanne nodded and Mycroft breathed a sigh of relief. He gently pushed her to sit and then lie on the couch. She held still while he peeled up her shirt and started to unbutton it to expose the injury and she didn't say a word when he gasped at the sight of her blood.

He quickly retrieved the first-aid kit from the loo and Joanne let him tend to her without complaint, knowing that he needed this. He needed to assert control to calm himself. Watching him as he worked to clean the area and press a gauze pad to her she noticed his left hand held her rounded belly, a thumb gently stroking the skin. He looked so vulnerable in that moment like the mask he usually hid behind had cracked, showing the real Mycroft Holmes.

Reaching up with her left hand, she gently touched his face, stroking up to his auburn hair. He was still a little feverish from his stomach bug he was recovering from but, more likely, it was stress. "Hey, are you ok?"

He turned, surprised at her reciprocated concern and opened his mouth to reply when a sharp knock startled the moment causing the mask to heal itself for him to hide behind once again.

xXx

Mycroft watched as Thomlinson examined Joanne Watson, his anger mounting as each mark was revealed. Had it only been this morning that he had watched her as she had slept next to him, unmarked and at peace?

He cursed himself for allowing her to compromise her safety, himself for following her wishes, and refused to have this happen again. This incident was too close for comfort.

Mycroft couldn't help the small smile when Joanne criticized the stitch Thomplinson was applying to her cut and when she corrected him from an over and over interrupted to a subcutaneous continuous to minimize the possibility of a scar. She truly was an amazing doctor but the worst patient. He could see Thomlinson bristle under her instruction but he conceded when he looked back to Mycroft who nodded in agreement with Jo's suggestions.

The doctor palpitated her abdomen and found nothing concerning, reaffirmed both heartbeats, checked pulse and temperature. All within normal parameters but was slightly concerned about her blood pressure being slightly elevated. Joanne was not pleased when the doctor recommended/ordered a few days rest and for a nurse to come each day to do checks. He was surprised but pleased when she didn't object but she did make the doctor check him over as well which he tolerated to humor her.

After he left, Joanne padded upstairs to change and Mycroft set about making some tea (de-caff but she didn't need to know). He, for some reason, felt reluctance to leave despite the fact that he knew she was safe. His conversation with Sherlock played through his mind.

"Ooh, that is just what I needed."

He handed her a cup and she sat across him in pajamas, her hair loose around her shoulders and face free of her make-up and he couldn't help but think she looked beautiful without the trappings of female vanity. Perhaps his brother was more intelligent than he gave him credit for. He did care for her. Love her? He was somewhat out of his element in this.

"Please tell me you've intercepted Sherlock. I don't need him fighting for my honor." Her eyebrows drew down in worry. "Or going to jail for something that's not important. It's not worth it."

Mycroft did think it was worth it, that she was worth defending, but she did have a point. It was something that needed to be handled with more...finesse. The less she knew, the better. "I can assure you that Sherlock is being handled as we speak."

Jo snorted. "I'll bet he loved that."

"Mycroft, the agent you assigned to me?" She tapped her cup and, again, he struggled to remain calm and in control at the mere mention of him.

"Agent Riley."

"Hmm...right." She bit her lip, clearly considering her words. "Do I want to know why he's afraid of you considering you supposedly 'occupy a minor position'?"

"Probably not." He answered primly.

"Leave him alone. It wasn't his fault what happened."

He did not enjoy it when demands were placed on him especially when it came to how he protected those he cared about. "It was, though. His sole responsibility was your safety and he knew this when he received his assignment." He explained.

"He's just a kid!"

"He's a trained agent." He argued back.

Joanne sighed. "I was told, when I first started my residency, that you aren't a doctor until you've lost a patient. It's when you learn and he's certainly learned. He will become a better agent and more vigilant as a result of this."

Mycroft knew she wore her heart on her sleeve, a weakness that, in this instance, he could use as an opportunity. "Very well. On one condition. Agent Riley or, when he is not on duty, the agent assigned to you is to be allowed more liberty when monitoring and protecting you."

The elder Holmes still had the duty of handling the man who dared to attack someone close to him. This was another part of him that Joanne did not need to see. She may have seen the horrors of war but he'd seen and known far worse. He did not want to tarnish her opinions on him and his duties no matter their necessity nor did he wish to frighten her away. He saw the way she had looked at his brother moments ago and he'd been close to behaving similarly.

He waited as she weighed her options, deciding between protecting the agent and sacrificing some of her freedom in an attempt to appease him or to abandon Riley to his fate (a black ops assignment he'd been needing to find an agent for in South Korea) and still have the privacy she was accustomed to. He was an expert in predicting people (usually but Watson didn't always conform) but he was certain of the outcome here.

"Fine but I still want some privacy and distance."

He inclined his head in agreement.

"There's-" Swallowing nervously, Joanne continued. "-a few other things we need to talk about."

"Yes?"

"I'd say it's probably time to start thinking about how I'm going to explain-" She gestured to her belly. "-this to people. I'm already getting looks and I can only hide it for so long. I'm probably going to have to go shopping at Mothercare by the end of the week."

"What is there to hide?" He asked.

"Do I tell people that...they're yours?" She asked hesitantly.

"Of course. I would recommend not shouting it from the rooftops but I would actually be quite pleased to be known as their father." He was actually very pleased about the prospect of this.

"Oh." Her cheeks pinked. "All right."

Mycroft smiled indulgently. "Did you truly think everything was cloak and dagger when dealing with the likes of me?"

"Shut up."


End file.
